


Colours

by kissperingniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Denial of Feelings, Depression, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, Trigger warning:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissperingniall/pseuds/kissperingniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where you can't see colour until you meet your soulmate, Niall has always felt out of place.<br/>Harry can't wait till the day that he meets them, can't wait to no longer live in a monochromatic world.</p><p>or</p><p>The one where Harry and Niall are soulmates and Niall doesn't want to have anything to do with this bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. TEN

**Author's Note:**

> This first started as a short story for my Creative Fiction Writing class, but I decided to make it a narry soulmate au. I hope you like it.  
> Leave a kudos and a comment if you like this ^__^

It took ten steps for my life to change.

I thought I’d calculated everything perfectly. I knew that I was being audacious, avoiding others to the point of complete seclusion, however, I never wanted to become one of _them_. The people that found the grace of the universe within seconds of touching someone who’s your supposed “destiny”. Pfft. What a crock. Why should I have to follow a fixed fate when you’re meant to make your own destiny?

It’s unfair.

How can you expect someone to just drop everything when they find that person? How can something like only being able to see colours when you meet your soulmate change your entire life?

Am I expected to settle down all because he or she suddenly falls into my lap?

I won’t do it.

I can’t.

I wouldn’t...

But I’ve already forgotten those ten steps, haven’t I?

Let’s go back to the beginning to explain things further.

  
  


**

  
  


Niall was ten when he realized that there existed a whole spectrum of colours he didn't even know. At first, it intrigued him. What did they feel like? Did they evoke emotion, or were they just _there_? The simple day to day tasks gradually became insignificant compared to the idea that the world was filled with thousands of colours that seemed more than a fairytale.

He heard his parents talk about them before. His mum mused over how pretty his dad's blue eyes were and his dad would sing about how beautiful she looked in her pink sundress. Blue and pink were foreign words. Yet, Niall was enthralled with their properties. What was it that made them see what he couldn't?

He asked them, “How can I see them?”

They only shook their heads, patting his head gently, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Of course they’d say that.

  
  


Niall's twenty when he gets his first girlfriend. They take things slow, going on several dates before they even hold hands. The curious thing is, the second he reaches for her hand and grasps it for a mere second, she yanks herself away, shock written all over her face.

Two days later, she breaks up with him.

She says that she can’t see the colours of the skies when she’s with him.

After dating a few times, with the same, disappointing outcome, Niall realizes that seeing colour coincides with finding your soulmate.

He hates colour.

  
  


  
  


**

  
  


“I don't know what I'm going to do, Lou. I'm not going to be able to make this month’s rent.”

“What have Zayn and I been telling you, Harry? Get. A. Roommate.”

Harry exhales, blowing a stray strand from his eyes. “You know I don't want a roommate.”

“Then I don't know what else to tell you, mate. You refuse to move to a cheaper apartment—”

“I'm so close to school, why would I move?”

“You refuse to get another job—”

“I have no time to get a second job,” he groans.

“And you're too OCD to let someone else share your space—”

“Sorry that people are disgusting.”

Louis burns, it feels red. “Would you stop interrupting me?”

Harry shrugs, glancing away from his best friend. “I guess I just have to give in.”

“Yep.”

He rakes long fingers through his hair. “Bollocks. I hate this.”

Louis wraps his arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him in comfortably. “If Zayn and I could spot you some money, we would, but…”

“I know,” Harry breathes heavily. “I'm going to post a listing in the pub for a roommate.”

Louis laughs. It makes Harry feel all yellow inside. He knows of colours, knows the requirement to _see_ them, it's just too bad that Louis isn't his one. They've been friends since diapers were a thing, so it's only natural that they have a perfect bond. Perfect enough that Harry considers Louis his soulmate, even if it's in the platonic sense. That's why he thinks he can _feel_ colours when he's with Louis, even if he can't see them.

“You honestly think that's the best idea? Some random will show up at your door, and they'll sack your apartment.”

“I have a month to interview a potential roommate, I'll be fine.”

“Sure sure. But you should look at posting elsewhere, too.”

“Obviously.” Harry’s eyes roll, smirking up at his perfectly chiseled friend.

“Such a shame that you won't consider living with Zayn and I.”

Harry pulls away from his embrace, giving him a look. “What? So I can be around you and your colourful relationship with Zayn? No thanks.”

Louis hums, “We are quite a spectrum, huh?”

They get up and begin pacing around the university’s grounds, staying silent for a while. It’s nice just to take a breather from his worries, but it’s his thoughts and curiosities that continue to run rampantly. It’s like his brain is on steroids, pacing rapidly on its treadmill.

“What’s it like?” He murmurs, breaking the deafening silence.

Louis turns to him, eyebrows jutted upwards as his pursed lips hum. “Hmm?”

“Colour. What’s it like?”

He takes a deep breath, leaving Harry with a bright smile wrapped in the same grey he’s been accustomed to his whole life. “It’s like breathing. Simple, but vital to living. It’s like you’ve always known what it is and what it’s meant for, but at first, colour is so new and so fascinating. Makes you wonder why we have to wait to meet someone else to be able to have it. Although, it reminds me of love in a way. The way that you know it’s there, that you’ll always have it in some way or another, but when it’s the right person, colour is so much more than what we dream about. It’s truly beautiful.”

Harry isn’t sure that it’s helpful, since it barely satiates his desire to have it, but he learns that it’s a gift worth being blessed.

It makes him want to meet _the one_ much more.

  
  


When he dreams that night, he thinks he can almost see the colour blue.

  
  


**

  
  


Niall grimaces when lonely, drunken bar patrons attempt to “accidentally” brush him as he walks through the aisle to his normal booth in the back. He knows what they’re doing, and he despises it. Ever since he moved to London for music, he learned quickly that all anyone ever cares about is finding their “one”. It’s maddening, and ever more sickening to say the least. He hates the look on one’s face the moment they encounter their soulmate, the way the whites in their eyes seem to spiral like a supernova nebula, painting their irises.

He hates that there’s a possibility you could never meet them. They could be on the other side of the world, or even worse, could’ve already died. The entire concept of seeing colour is grotesquely manufactured through media, promoting people to find their destiny by touching as many people as possible. If Niall could erase it, he would in a heartbeat.

The bartender comes around with his usual. She’s an older woman, handsomely aged like a fine wine. She goes by Maddie, but Niall’s heard her be called other names by patrons, yet she responds all the same. He figures she doesn’t mind as long as someone finds a way to properly get her attention.

“Evenin’, Niall. Have yourself a lovely day?” Her thick accent languidly flicks off of her tongue. She brandishes herself with an ever sweet smile, gaining a similar gesture from him.

“Another day, another dollar in the big city.” Niall tips his pint to her before swallowing the cold liquid greedily.

Like him, Maddie never cared much for the colour-soulmate business. She said she met him once, but one day he got into a fatal accident and she forever lost the ability to see colour. It was within inches of her, and in the blink of an eye, it was suddenly gone. Almost like a piece of her was ripped away violently.

Scarred her enough to find herself frowning at little couples finding their seconds of happiness that she’ll forever envy. Niall didn’t realize until meeting her, that there were consequences to finding your soulmate. What if you found them, got married to them, created a whole lifetime of memories and then they passed on? You end your life in the bleakest of ways after been so accustomed to the gift that finding them presented you.

It gives him more reason to hate colour. What’s the point of having them in your life when they could be ripped from you just as easily?

Despite all of that, Niall really likes Maddie. Likes her realism, and that she always remembers what he drinks.

“Almost ready for your set?” She asks, nodding her head towards the empty stage, ready for the next singer to take it.

He gently caresses his guitar case, beaming brightly at her. “You bet I am.”

  
  


**

  
  


“You’re seriously posting the listing in the bar?”

Harry glances over his shoulder, shrugging. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

Louis sighs. “It’s just… weird. You’re not going to find someone decent enough to live with here. I don’t know why you even think it’s a good idea.”

He looks over the piece of paper. His neat handwriting is strewn across the page, written elegantly like a poem to a lover. He can’t help it though. Harry was always so fascinated with scripting, only furthering his love of the written word. “This area isn’t so bad, Lou. People are a little more upscale in class here than most parts of London. So please just trust me on this?”

Louis groans, pulling at his hair agonizingly. “Fine. But don’t come running to me when I’m right.”

Harry laughs. “It’s a deal.”

The sound of a few beautifully executed chords rings about the air, stirring Harry’s attention towards the stage at the back of the pub. A young man is seated on the lone stool mid-stage, caressing the body and neck of a finely polished acoustic guitar. The man presses his lips familiarly to the microphone, giving his greetings to the small crowd forming around the stage.

“This is for all of you folks that have been dying to meet your one, only to fall short of disappointment.” With that, he begins the first measure of his song—followed by a slew of cheers from his audience—pulling Harry easily into his siren call.

“Who’s that?” He whispers, eyes trained only on the white haired musician lost in his own music.

“Niall. He’s a local that frequents this bar on Saturday nights. He’s pretty good, if I’m honest,” Louis answers, but Harry only hears half of it as he inches his way towards the stage, his roommate listing forgotten in his hand.

He hears hints of wretched blue and languid purple, preceded by deep, agonizing red in Niall’s song. Its melancholy driving him to the brink of tears as he sings about fearing the loss of someone you’ll never even know. Simply put, Harry easily relates to it, always having the dread that his want for meeting his soulmate could completely throw him to shambles if it never happens. What if he ends up all alone, dying bedside and the world is still monochromatic? What if he never gets the chance to experience that sparkle in his eyes? What if he never gets to feel what it’s like to meet someone that could change your world in a massive spectrum?

He feels the colours pouring out of Niall’s soul and he wants to heal him.

It takes a few moments after his first set for Harry to finally come to his senses. The bar is dimmer, adorned with darker shades of gray than Harry’s accustomed to, but he finds his way back to Louis who’s patiently perched against the wall with the pub’s local corkboard.

“Are we posting it or what?” He calls.

Harry nods, meandering carefully towards the busy wall of posters and listings. It takes only a moment, but that moment between here and there forever changes the course of his life as he trips backwards and falls into the arms of a darkly clad stranger. Only, he’s dressed in a deep navy blue shirt set to a pair of dark grey jeans. Wait. Deep navy blue?

Curiously, Harry looks up at his saviour, greeted by a pair of bright blue eyes he’s sure he’s seen in his dreams, and his body surges with an electricity unfamiliar to his senses. That’s when everything starts rushing towards him. Colours he’s only heard names of, but he quickly recognizes them, and it’s a shocking intensity that bursts through his veins like the familiar embrace of a loved one pulling you into their arms.

Harry has no words for the feeling, but he knows that whatever this _is_ , it’s beautiful.

  
  


**

  
  


Niall’s always been skilled at avoiding another’s touch. Can see them coming from meters away, and uncannily dodges them within moments of their reach. He knows how desperately everyone’s searching for “the one”, but he refuses to be the one they thought might be their destiny. He hates the anxiety as much as he hates how the world has persuaded themselves into thinking it’s the only thing that matters. So he makes it a point to himself to keep a constant bubble.

Tonight is just not one of those nights.

It only takes twelve steps to reach the bar from the stage. He counts themhea silently every time.

One.

The small crowd pours towards him, complimenting his set of songs.

Two.

Three.

He spots a curious set of dark grey curls bouncing about towards the bulletin board next to the bar.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Niall spots Maddie at her perch, lifting a pint of his favourite lager towards his direction.

Seven.

Eight.

Those dark grey curls are somehow in his direct line of sight.

Nine.

The man falls backwards, landing right into Niall’s arms.

Ten.

Niall feels the sudden rush enveloping his body like an electric glove. The world pulses and quickly they come to his senses: the deep red of the floor, the vibrant neon lighting of the bar signs, the deep chocolate brown of his hair, down to the bright olive green of his eyes. His body begins to falter, only to halt as he remembers the heavy weight of the curly haired man who’s fallen into his arms.

It takes ten fateful steps for him to see the colours he’s dreaded for the past three years. The very same colours that completely enthralled him as a kid.

Those envious hues he never thought he’d witness, all his within the span of ten steps.

It’s not horrific. It’s absolutely beautiful and he begins to understand the desire of them. It was never about the ability to see them, but about the bonus of finding someone that’s meant for you and you’d just _know_. There’s none of the questioning “is she the one?” or “will I marry him?” or even the “will they always be with me?”.

He understands it, but slowly he returns to his senses, and he still hates it.

Niall hates that destiny is something that exists. He hates how your life is set on this one track way and you can’t change it because _bam!_ here’s the person you’re supposed to be with, congrats.

The curly haired man stands back up, out of Niall’s grasp and there it is, that disgustingly adorable sparkle in his eyes. Pools of colourful galaxies flashing back up at him. Great. He’s one of _those_ people. Niall’s eyes roll.

Then there’s the ever common introduction, “H-Hi, I’m Harry.”

Niall groans. This is _not_ what he needed right now.

“This is… Isn’t it wonderful? All the colours you didn’t think existed? I never thought I’d meet you this soon. I’m seriously at a loss for words. I thought I’d be more prepared for this, and yet—”

“Of course you’d be like this.” He cuts him off with a roll of his eyes, placing Harry carefully in contrast to him, lest he allow himself to falter under the sweetness of his soulmate’s words.

Harry’s excitement falls instantly. “I-I’m sorry? You’re _really_ disgusted by this?”

Niall crosses his arms over his chest, perking an eyebrow up audaciously. “Completely.”

“Oh, so you’re one of _those_ people.” Harry remarks, scoffing. “Of course I’m matched with a colour hater. Absolutely wonderful.”

“Glad to hear that you’re just as disappointed.”

Harry stares blankly back at him, stunned to silence. It’s only broken the moment his friend joins his side, hands comfortably caressing Harry’s shoulders. “Hazza, I saw it! I saw it! You finally met him. He’s cute too.” The way he looks him up and down is unnerving.

Niall grimaces at Harry’s friend. He can tell by the way he’s more than enthused that he’s met his match already too. “This is disgusting. I’m just going to say that I don’t have intentions with you off the basis that you’re my ‘soulmate’ just because we can see something we couldn’t before.”

“Excuse me? Why wouldn’t you even consider Harry? Especially knowing that he’s destined for you.” Harry’s friend growls. His hold on Harry’s arms gets possessively tighter.

“Quite frankly, it’s because I don’t know Harry. How do I really know he’s meant for me when I don’t know the first thing about him?”

His friend pushes Harry towards Niall, his tall figure clumsily rolling towards Niall’s direction. “Then _get_ to know him. He’s wonderful and if you don’t give him a chance, you’re truly missing out. Take it from someone who already knows his soulmate and is happily with them. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Niall approaches Harry’s friend proudly. “What’s your name?”

“Louis.”

“If I ‘get to know’ Harry, will you get off my back? Even if I find that I don’t like him?”

Louis grimaces, glancing over at a disdained Harry. “You’ll like him, I promise.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he remarks proudly, then turns to his “one”. “All right, we’ll exchange numbers and I’ll call you when I’m ready to see you.” Niall passes his phone to Harry, reluctantly receiving the latter’s. He quickly punches in his digits and returns the device. After his own phone is returned, Niall leans in petulantly, “By the way, I’m Niall. I’ll see you around.”

  
  


**

  
  


“What a complete arse. I’m sorry Harry, I don’t think you should even give him a chance,” Louis grumbles as they make their way back to their apartments. It isn’t till he’s a couple meters away before he realizes Harry’s stopped walking. “Harry?”

“It’s just,” he begins, rolling his hands into fists. Tears threaten to break through their barrier, but he sucks it up. “I want to know what made him hate colour so much. I’ve met only one colour hater and you know how she ended up,” Harry murmurs.

Louis sighs. “Even still. That was your sister. She wasn’t cynical like Niall is. How the universe decided that he’s your soulmate is beyond me.”

“I want to try, Lou,” Harry states firmly, staring at Niall’s contact information in his phone. “I want to heal him.”

Louis pulls him into a hug. “I’m sorry that you received something so wonderful and had it thrown in your face by the one person who’s supposed to always be with you. If Zayn did this to me, I don’t think I’d ever be able to stick through this. You’re so strong.”

  
  


*

  
  


It takes a few weeks before Niall contacts Harry, but with him so busy working on his manuscript for finals—and interviewing many roommates with little potential—he didn’t notice the time pass by. He’s in the middle of cleaning his workspace when his phone buzzes to life.

“Hello?”

“Hey, meet me at the park.”

“I’m a little busy right now.”

Niall sighs, irritated. “When aren’t you busy, then?”

“Give me a couple hours? Please?”

“Fine. Don’t be late.”

  
  


*

  
  


It’s ten after six when Niall spots him sitting on the park bench, alone. He wasn’t really going to show, but Harry’s plea to wait a couple of hours hit some sort of soft spot, so he gave in. He’s a little late, but by the look in Harry’s eyes, he doesn’t mind. It’s just a shame that things have to go the way they do.

Niall calculates the distance between them. He gives a small laugh. Ten steps.

Huh.

Ten steps to change his life, and ten more to change it even more.

Most people would be happy to find their soulmate, but Niall can’t do it. He just can’t believe some stranger is his forever partner. It has nothing to do with who he is. Harry could be wonderful, but how can he just open up to someone that easily?

Niall skips over the greetings and interrupts Harry before he can say anything. “I can’t do it.”

“What?”

Niall exhales harshly. “I just can’t do it. I don’t know who you are. I don’t understand how we can be destined for each other without knowing if we mesh well. I just can’t be with you.”

Harry’s large olive eyes convey an expression of understanding that Niall did not expect. “Okay.”

“Oh… kay? That’s it?” He questions, watching Harry gather himself before getting up to leave.

“What else do you expect me to do? Beg you to give me a chance? I’m not that desperate to make you love me. Know that, just like how I dream of you, you’ll always dream of me. There’s some sort of cosmic connection between us that scientists can’t even explain, but you’re already giving up on a chance with someone off of a cynical disposition. I get it. My sister was a colour hater. But she never met her soulmate before she ultimately took her life.”

Without another word, Harry pushes past Niall, leaving him stunned speechless.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos or comments are appreciated.  
> my tumblr is kissperingniall.tumblr.com if you want to follow me


	2. BLUE AND GREEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, while I’m thinking about it, forget what I told Matty.”  
> “Excuse me,” Harry glances up at him, eyebrows furrowing deeply.  
> “You heard what I said. Thanks for coming to hear me play tonight. I’ll see ya around, Harry.” Niall blurts quickly, making his escape from the awkward situation.  
> Don’t let him leave. Don’t be a chicken, Harry.  
> He hears the hurried crunch of Niall’s sneakers on the snow.  
> Hurry before he leaves forever!  
> “All I can see is blue!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been so much fun to write. 
> 
> I can't wait to hear what you guys think of this chapter :)
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated.

Niall finds himself in a continuous state of confusion. He just can’t get used to the surge of colours when he wakes up in the morning. It’s like being born again, except your mother isn’t there to coddle you until you get the hang of things. What’s worse is he’s noticed that his furniture doesn’t match. Even if he doesn’t have much of it in the first place, he hates the sight of it.

 _What else have I mismatched?_ Niall thinks, shuffling into the kitchen with a wide yawn. He scratches his belly, leaning into the open refrigerator. The coffee maker roars to life, rumbling quietly as his liquid reprieve is poured generously into his cup. Niall mixes a teaspoon of sugar and milk into the cup before heading to his balcony.

Of everything he’s had to re-accustom himself to, the sunrise and sunset has to be one of the hardest. It’s ever changing, and the colours are endless. He misses the way things were. The simplicity of grey.

Colour, like love, is complex and confusing.

Not to mention the complexity that colours created for food. Something Niall never wanted to change is the way food tastes, and _wham!_ what does he get?

Green broccoli.

Red meat in general because gross.

Red apples.

Let’s not start on fries or the way chicken looks before it’s cooked.

The abrupt knock on his front door brings him out of his daydream. Curiously, he heads into the small foyer of his loft, finding a red envelope sitting underneath his mail slot. He’s not unfamiliar to this particular envelope, just the deep red colour to it. It’s menacing.

As it should be, since it’s an eviction letter.

 

**

 

It's curious to find that something’s have always been devoid of colour. Not because they're boring, but because it's necessary to emphasize.

Harry's wholly fascinated by the swirling steam of white lifting from the foamy, cream surface of his latte. The sharp aroma of the coffee beans surround his senses with a dark ambience that welcomes him home. He loves the way the soft yellow of the café’s lights bounce off his stirring spoon, the myriad of colours racing about the busy coffeehouse.

Louis’ watching Harry, smiling at every awestruck move he makes as he allows the world to fully envelope his vision.

He squeaks his chair closer to him, shoulder pressed to Harry’s keenly. “Is that what I looked like when I first saw colour?”

Harry finally peels himself away from his spiraling fixation on their environment and nods curtly. “I can't believe there's so much I couldn't see. Nothing's the same anymore. The way food smells and tastes and how people are more than just a grey blob in my vision. The world is just so full of life that only colour can describe best.”

Louis laughs, stirring his straw in his tea wantonly. “Yeah, that got to me too. I could never imagine hating this after experiencing things truly for the first time. I guess it's true, not everything is just black and white. There's no “grey area”. It's every hue in between.”

Harry smirks half-heartedly. “It makes me wonder why people even bother to hate something so wonderful. Like, it’s the one thing that truly makes us whole and then there’s just people who hate the idea of it. Why?”

“Maybe you should ask Niall about that one then,” Louis murmurs, gnawing on the straw petulantly. “Obviously he would know.”

“Lou…” Harry warns.

“No. I’m not going to allow you to defend him. Soulmate or not, he’s a twat for not bothering to give you the time of day.”

“It’s not like he didn’t explain himself…”

“Sure,” Louis scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “’I just can’t do it. I don’t know who you are. I don’t understand how we can be destined for each other without knowing if we mesh well. I just can’t be with you.’ That’s a really good excuse for someone who just doesn’t give a shite.”

Harry sighs, rising from his seat. “I need to go to work now. We’ll talk about this later,” he mentions, grabbing his satchel from the back of the chair.

“Oh hey,” Louis calls after him, leaning over the side of his chair. “Did you ever find a roommate?”

“No,” Harry mundanely answers. “I don’t know how I’m going to get the money. I don’t get paid till next Friday and the rent is due this Thursday.”

Louis pulls his wallet out, fishing for a few hundreds. “Harry, please take this.”

He lifts his nose up to it, glancing away. “No can do.”

“Do you want to be on the streets or comfortably in your bed?”

Harry bites his lip, staring at the money, tempted. “I can’t pay you back right away.”

“I don’t need your money right now.” Louis waves the bills at Harry impatiently. “I just want you safe at home. So please.”

He takes the money, filled with guilt. “Okay. Thank you so much. I promise I’ll pay you back as soon as I have the money.”

“Worry about that last. Zayn and I will get back just fine without a few hundred pounds.”

Harry gives Louis a quick hug, “I’ll call you after work, thank you again.”

 

*

 

True to his word, Harry calls, only it’s midnight and he’s sure Louis’ asleep.

Surprisingly, he answers on the third ring, his familiar cheery voice singing the pretty, “Hello~”.

“I was scared you’d be asleep by now.”

“It’s a Monday night. Still party hour,” Louis giggles, clearly drunk.

“Are you at home?”

“Mhm~ Zaynie and I are going to do the do in a few.”

Harry groans. “Gross. I’ll call you another time then. Just wanted to tell you I’m headed home now.”

“Wait,” Louis’ voice sounding serious now. “Is there something wrong?”

“No.”

He scoffs. “C’mon. Twenty-two years of being best friends and you don’t think I know what you sound like when you’re upset?”

“It’s nothing, really. Just been thinking about Gemma today.”

“Oh.”

“She missed out on so much. I didn’t realize that the sky is really blue. Don’t even ask me how I feel about the sunset.”

Louis chuckles. “I know how you feel.”

“But how can I enjoy all of this when she never had the chance to enjoy it herself? It’s not fair, Lou. She left too soon.”

“Hazza. It’s okay, but don’t feel like you can’t enjoy it. I’m sure she’s looking down on you, wishing you all the best in your future.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Now we just need you to get matched up with someone who gives a fuck about colour and you’ll be golden.”

Harry takes in his words slowly, catching the playful ring in his voice. “Louis… what did you do?”

“There’s this dating site—”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes!”

“Why?”

“It’s for people whose soulmates are colour haters and they still want a chance at love.” Louis chimes matter-of-factly.

“Louis—”

“And you have ten messages! Isn’t that exciting?!”

There it is.

“Fuck,” Harry growls, throwing his head back against the brick wall of his apartment building. He presses his phone closer to his ear, hoping Louis will hear every pitch of his anger. “Why in the fuck would you sign me up without my permission? I’m telling Zayn to lock the internet up when you’re drunk.”

“It’s too late!” he laughs. “Besides. It’s been a month since you met that twatface and he totally rejected you. Don’t you think it’s time to go to option B?”

“And option B is to go to a dating site?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Exactomundo!”

“Louis I really don’t think I want to—”

“Ohhhh please please please try it. Just a couple of dates? For me?”

Harry groans. He really doesn’t want to do this, but arguing with drunk Louis gets him nowhere. “There’s no use in saying no when you’ll continue to pester me. Fine. I’ll come over and we’ll take a look at the messages together. How does that sound?”

“It sounds beautiful. See you soon!”

Harry pockets his phone, heading up the stairs to Louis’ apartment.

 

*

 

_October_

Autumn settles in quickly as the calendar turns the page to October. Harry breathes in the tender scents of fallen leaves. He loses himself to the whirlwind of oranges and yellows dropping like a leafy snow amidst the golden sunset.

He’s going on his first—and probably the last—date with a third potential match. Harry hates this dating site bullshite. He’s decided that if he doesn’t feel anything with this one too, then he’s done with the dating business. It’s enough knowing who his destined one is, even if that certain someone isn’t exactly wanting anything to do with him.

 _Its fine_ , Harry tells himself. _It’ll pan out in the end. I’m sure of it._

 

Harry meets his date in front of the movie theatre. He’s of average height and build with bright orange hair that flares against the light of the falling sun. Harry’s tempted to pull his sunglasses back on just so he can see.

“Hi,” he greets. “I’m Ed.”

“Harry,” he murmurs, extending his hand unenthused. He gestures to the ticket booth. “Shall we?”

Ed nods, following Harry.

 _Let’s just get this sideshow over with._ Harry thinks.

 

In the end. The date doesn’t go well. Ed’s a cool guy, and it really has nothing to do with him personally. Harry would just rather be his friend than anything else. The same goes for the other two dates. They weren’t electrifying. Not even a hint of a connection that he can build a relationship off of.

There’s definitely something up, he just can’t pinpoint what it is.

 

Visions of oceans of blue as far as the eye can see visit his dreams nightly.

 

**

 

_December_

Niall can’t describe exactly how much he loves winter. Its familiar monochromic scheme drives him to tears. He misses this. Misses only being able to see blacks, whites, and all of the greys in between. It’s still mixed in with shades of yellows and blues, but not much of the other hues to note amongst the whitest snow and blackest nights.

Only one thing ruins his effervescent daydream. It’s the constant flashes of green this and that when he dreams. Seas upon seas of green forests are consistent burglars and he doesn’t know how to get rid of them. Sometimes he doesn’t sleep just to avoid having to see the colour. Green is practically making him sick; he wishes it’d go away.

The colour itself reminds him of Harry. Sometimes he feels bad for being such an arse to him, but that’s his defense mechanism. He’s accustom to constant disappointment and just because Harry’s supposed to be for him doesn’t mean that he can guarantee eternal happiness for Niall. He thought his parents were supposed to be happy forever, but divorces happen even in this society.

Sighing, Niall stares up at the navy blue ceiling of his temporary room. After being evicted from his apartment, he made a desperate call to Liam, someone he’d easily call his best friend. Liam has two sisters, both who’ve found their soulmates—a detail Liam absolutely hates. He’s constantly going on about how everyone he’s close to has found their one and now they no longer exist as individuals. Niall can’t deny it, because it’s a fact that the moment you meet your soulmate, most people tend to not be separate from their partner—always referring to both as if you’re collectively making a decision even if the other partner isn’t there.

In short, it’s sickening and it's the first thing that allowed him to connect on a deeper level with Liam.

However, Niall’s unsure of how to tell Liam about Harry. He’s scared that if Liam knows he can see colour now that they wouldn’t be as close.

If anything in this world, Niall doesn’t want to lose the one friend who’s always been on his side about everything.

Niall sits up in bed, head resting against his knees as he prepares himself for the night ahead of him. It’s a big gig. Maddie says that more than fifty people will be at the pub just to hear him play and it’s got him feeling butterflies inside. He’s even written a new song to premiere to the newbies, but it doesn’t make matters easier. Liam says he’s invited some of their friends to celebrate.

Tonight’s going to be a long one, that’s for sure.

 

**

 

The pub is bustling with more customers than Harry’s ever seen. Maddie nods to him from the bar, raising a pint of his usual. He turns to Louis and Zayn, “What do you two want to drink?”

“Guinness, tap,” they say in unison, smirking knowingly. Harry rolls his eyes and heads towards Maddie’s direction.

Harry leans against the bar, so as not to shout so loud for her to hear him. “Can I get two pints of Guinness, too please?”

She knocks the bar twice, her crow’s feet appearing with her smile. “You betcha love.” Within moments, Maddie returns with two pints, filled to the brim with the dark amber lager.

“Thanks.”

Louis and Zayn snagged a table while Harry was away. It hasn’t even been five minutes and they’re already snuggled up to each other, staring blissfully at the stage filled with a myriad of neon colours. There’s a lone guitar perched against the stool and Harry’s patiently waiting to see the singer claim it. He’s certain there’s no one more excited to see him than he is.

It doesn’t take long for Louis to understand why they’re here.

“No.”

Harry nods, setting their pints in front of them. “Yes.”

Zayn smirks, “Am I going to finally see your soulmate?”

“Yeah. I figured it was time,” Harry murmurs, taking his seat cautiously next to Louis.

“That’s a load of shite. You just wanted to see him because you can’t stop thinking about that arse.”

 _Yep, should’ve sat next to Zayn instead,_ Harry reflects.

Harry shrugs. It’s Zayn that answers for him, though, “Oh c’mon, babe. Let him try to make things work with Niall. It’s not like they aren’t supposed to be together.”

Louis’ body shoots up in shock. “Is that right? Well, _babe_ , you didn’t see how that arsehole treated Harry the second they met.”

“I get it, actually. It’s not like I was one hundred percent open to the idea of you being my soulmate at first either,” Zayn muses, his smirk growing devilishly wide as he kisses the brim of his pint.

Louis smacks his arm. “Excuse you!”

“But you’re still the only one for me, Loubear.”

Harry thinks he’s about to vomit. “It’s too much. The lovey-dovey stuff is overwhelming,” he cries, feigning gagging sounds at them.

A handful of popcorn is thrown Harry’s way, followed by an irritated Louis, “Oh whatever, go wait for your twatface of a boyfriend then.”

“Maybe I will.”

The stage dims, leaving a lone spotlight settled over the stool and he finally makes his way to claim his spot. It’s been four months since Harry’s seen him, but he’s just as handsome as he remembers. The brown of his natural roots have blended into the bleached blonde of his hair, but somehow the overgrowth suits him more than when it’s kept up. He looks tired; a faint blue hint like a ring under his eyes and Harry wonders if he hasn’t been taking care of himself properly. His cheeks have sunken in slightly, too, as if he hasn’t ate in a month.

Harry can’t help the worry he’s feeling. His urge to save his soul is stronger than it was before.

“Hello everyone, I want to thank every single one of you for coming out to hear me play. I hope you like it,” Niall greets, a small smile brightening the room.

Then he plays through his set. Some songs Harry’s heard before, all forlorn and filled with the deepest of blues he could ever hear. Then Niall ends with a new song. Its light beat exuding an array of colours throughout the pub, yet, listening to the lyrics, it’s filled with a confusion Harry’s familiar to.

“How do you fall in love with a stranger?” Niall sings and Harry’s feeling butterflies flutter about. He’s glued to Niall’s muddled expression, dissecting his emotions only to find that they feel the same as his.

The crowd roars to life as Niall ends his set. Niall exhales in relief, giving a bow of thanks before he exits the stage.

Harry heads to the bar quickly, lest Louis try to stop him, and grabs Maddie’s attention. “Can you give Niall a beer on me?”

“Sure thing, love. Anything special?”

“Whatever he wants,” Harry smiles, passing her a tip.

Niall makes his way to his usual perch at the bar, accepting Harry’s liquid gesture. Maddie motions towards Harry and Niall acknowledges his appreciation with a salute of his pint. With that, Harry returns to his seat.

Louis hisses, “Of course he sings a stupid song like that. Biggest arse if I ever knew one.”

“Lou,” Zayn sighs, nudging his boyfriend. “Have some compassion. The lad’s confused.”

“Oh sure. You took to me pretty easily, yeah?”

“Well of course,” Zayn admits. “But I also knew you before we figured it out. Poor Niall just found out his soulmate is a complete stranger. It’s reasonable that he won’t just conform to Harry like that.” He turns to Harry with a soft smile. “Niall seems like a good guy. I see why you want to give him a chance.”

Harry nods. “I can’t get him out of my head, Zayn. It’s driving me to madness.”

“What do you see?”

He tangles his hands in his long hair, sighing deeply. “Blue. Blue everything!” Harry throws his hands into the air, ultimately accepting defeat to rest at the table. “Sometimes it’s oceans, sometimes it’s the sky. It could even be a normal dream, but everything is painted with the colour blue.”

Zayn laughs. “Oh, I remember having dreams like that. Whenever Lou and I were apart, I’d dream of blue all the time. It’s associated with their eye colour. I bet you that Niall’s been dreaming of green every night.” He glances over to Niall. “Probably why he looks so tired.”

Harry gazes back to the blonde at the bar, observing his features again. “That makes sense now.”

“I still don’t approve. Harry, he’s only going to break your heart.”

“Let him decide for himself, Louis,” Zayn urges.

 

By the time Harry checks what time it is, he’s ten pints in chased with three shots of tequila—Louis’ idea—and he’s struggling to read the screen on his phone. “D’ya think it’s time to make it home?” Harry looks around him and realizes he’s all by himself. “Fuck. Where’d they go?”

“Hey you, you look a little lonely. Want some company?” An arm wraps around Harry’s shoulder and he’s suddenly clouded with the smell of strong alcohol. Harry focuses on the bloke draped around him. He’s covered in tattoos, with droopy brown eyes and long, curly black hair falling over his shoulders. His pouty lips are puckered drunkenly at Harry. If Harry wasn’t inebriated like he is now, normally he’d never allow this close of contact, but of course, his inhibitions left the building a long time ago.

“No. Sorry, I’m just waiting for my friends to come back,” Harry finally answers, attempting—weakly—to get this guy off of him.

“Have you…” He hiccups. “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

Harry ignores him.

“Hey, answer my question, cutie. Gotta know if I can talk to you.”

Even still, he ignores him.

Thankfully, Louis and Zayn come back from god knows where, in the nick of time to save him. Louis pushes the guy off of Harry with a coy smirk. “Sorry, mate, this guy has to go home now.” Louis quickly gets Harry to his feet, ushering him towards the door. It’s in vain as the guy grabs Harry’s arm, forcing him back into his arms.

“I don’t think so. I’m taking him home tonight.”

Before Louis and Zayn have an opportunity to jump in, Harry’s yanked from the guy’s grasp and he’s out the door with his saviour. Next thing he knows, it’s Niall who’s shouting, “Fuck off Matty, he’s mine!”

_What?_

_Wait… What?!_

Harry’s so star struck that by the time they’re clear out of the way of the bar, he has no idea where they are. Glancing about him, there’s a single streetlamp illuminating them, and the ground is covered in snow leading into the pitch black darkness of the cold winter night. Niall’s gasping for breath, puffs of air leaving his body like a steam engine, his broad shoulders heaving heavily. There’s sweat beading down the curve of his neck and Harry finds himself entranced by the very presence of him.

_Am I really that drunk?_

He feels the hand in his squeeze tightly before it’s released. “Sorry about that. My friends are arseholes.”

Harry just stares, mouth gaped, butterflies flying chaotic about his stomach.

Niall glances over his shoulder, blue eyes piercing through Harry. “Are you going to thank me for rescuing you?”

Shaking himself out of his trance, Harry nods, gulping. “Th-Thanks.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Niall smirks proudly. “Guess I should’ve kept a closer eye on Matty. He tends to hit on all the pretty birds in the pub.”

“Pretty birds?”

Niall eyes him carefully, taking heed of his own words. “Pretty to him at least.”

“Oh,” Harry exhales, staring at the ground. “Of course.”

 _So why did you call me yours? Are you really that much of an arse?_ Harry wants to say, but the words can’t escape him. He’s putty in Niall’s hands. _Thanks Satan for being a dick today._

“Oh, while I’m thinking about it, forget what I told Matty.”

“Excuse me,” Harry glances up at him, eyebrows furrowing deeply.

“You heard what I said. Thanks for coming to hear me play tonight. I’ll see ya around, Harry.” Niall blurts quickly, making his escape from the awkward situation.

_Don’t let him leave. Don’t be a chicken, Harry._

He hears the hurried crunch of Niall’s sneakers on the snow.

_Hurry before he leaves forever!_

“All I can see is blue!” Harry calls after him, turning slightly to see Niall stopped mid-step. He attempts to ignore Harry’s words. “I’ve tried dating others too, but it doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right because I met you. This world is too new to me. It’s beautiful, but I can’t get used to the way colour paints everything. Every time I see something blue, all I can think about is you.”

Harry sighs, clenching his hands into fists.

“I wish you would just give me a chance.”

“You don’t understand,” Niall whispers. “You don’t know me. Why do you even want to try after all this time?” Niall turns back to him, frowning deeply.

Harry grimaces, looking away embarrassedly. “Because I can’t find a connection with anyone else. Because some cosmic being decided to play god and pair us together. Because I believe that we _are_ meant for each other. You don’t think this is hard for me? Try living the shadow of your dead sister. Try experiencing the world with an attempt to enjoy it when you know she hated it. You’re the one that doesn’t understand.”

“If it’s that hard for you, why don’t you just give up? I’m not going to give in to these mind games, Harry. _I_ make my own destiny. Not you. Not some god-like being. _ME_!”

Niall returns to his original direction, marching forward angrily.

“You dream about me every night, don’t you?!”

Niall almost stops, but he refuses to give Harry the satisfaction.

 

*

 

“Yes mum, I'm leaving right at three. It'll take me an hour to get there. I promise I won't be late. I love you too. See you in a bit. Bye,” Harry hangs up the phone with a sigh, sitting in his recliner in exhaustion. He's been packing all day for the week going back home for Christmas. He still hasn't told his parents about Niall, and with the way things are going currently, he doesn't want to think about entertaining the idea of telling them.

With Niall's cynicism, most would give up right away. Who wants to keep trying with someone who will never be open minded? Apparently Harry's the only one who will.

He groans, kicking his feet, anguished. “This sucks,” Harry murmurs, sinking into his recliner until he can feel his chest under his chin. “I don't even want to leave this spot. Am I getting depressed again?”

Louis blows through Harry's front door, the stopper smacking loudly with the wooden fixture. Always a big entrance with this one. Harry's eyes roll. He's definitely not in the mood for this.

“Care to explain Saturday night to me?”

“Not really,” Harry grumbles.

“Then how do you expect me to understand you allowing that twatface to take you away from us when you know he couldn't give a shite about you. And what was with the ‘don't touch him Matty, he's mine’ thing?”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning boisterously. “It'd be really nice if you'd stop overreacting. Nothing happened. Nothing's ever going to happen, okay?”

He chances his first look at Louis and is surprised to see a sullen expression instead of the expected proud one. “After all of that, nothing happened? I would've figured Niall would follow up with ‘I'm so sorry Harry, you're really the man of my dreams. Take me’.” Louis emphasizes, his hand over his forehead partnered with a dramatic sigh.

Harry snorts. “Niall’s too serious to even do that even if he did care about me.”

“Then what gives?”

“Dunno.” Harry finals rises from his chair. “But I've gotta get going. Mum and Robyn are waiting for me.”

He begins to gather his bags, Louis tailing him around the apartment.

“I don't get why you're so fixed with Niall when you know that remarriage and finding another soulmate can happen. Look at your mum and Robyn. They're perfectly happy and not with their destined ones.”

“I'm not in the mood to discuss this Louis. I'll call you when I get home, okay?” Harry gestures at the door for him to leave, his keys in hand.

Louis waves his hands in surrender. “Okay okay. Drive safe. The roads are covered in ice this time of year.”

“I will.”

 

**

 

He wakes suddenly, broken out in a cold sweat. Gasping, Niall glances around his dark room, trying to focus on his surroundings. Try as hard as he might, spots of light and dark blur his vision before he attempts to turn the lights on. Niall shuts his eyes, flips the switch and opens them, only to find blotches of colour here and there mixed with unusual bouts of grey.

He shakes his head, determining his dazed vision is due to the nightmare he just had, but as moments pass on, the colour in his vision slowly begins to fade and it hits him. Hard. It barrels through his body like he'd just been hit by a car, slamming Niall against the bookcase behind him. The contents fly violently to the floor.

“Niall? Everything okay?” Liam calls from beyond the door.

Niall tightly grips the breast of his shirt, gasping for air that just won't come back to him. “Y-yeah. I'm okay,” he barely gets out, but it's enough for his roommate to leave him alone.

He scrambles desperately through his room for his phone. With a heavy heart, Niall searches for his number, flicking through the contacts screen so fast he almost misses it.

“C'mon c'mon,” he urges, impatiently waiting for him to pick up on the other end as the rings keep adding up. “Answer your damn phone, Harry!”

“Hello?”

It's not the voice he's expecting to hear.

“H-Harry? Where's Harry?”

“He's in the hospital, why are you calling?”

Hospital?

What?

No. Not now.

“Which hospital?”

 

*

 

When Niall finds his room, the colour has almost come back and he’s seeing his soulmate dressed in red stained bandages. Harry’s fast asleep, so he waits at his bedside, terrified.

The last thing he wants is to know when Harry's going to die.

And yet, here he is, hospitalized from an accident. Niall could've sworn he was about to have a heart attack.

 

Harry wakes up after a few hours, groaning in agony as he stirs from his morphine induced slumber. Niall smiles gratefully when he sees the olive green of his eyes staring curiously up at him.

“Niall?”

“Thank god.”

“Why are you here? How'd you know I was—“

Niall shakes his head. “It's the soulmate thing. I dreamt of your accident and here we are.”

“But—“

“You have a broken arm and fractured ribs. Do you remember anything?”

Harry attempts to sit up, all in vain from the pain of moving. So he settles for the uncomfortable position of lying down. “I remember a deer running out in front of my car and the next thing I know I'm crashed into a tree. Must've slid on black ice. Have my parents shown up yet?”

“No, Louis says they're on their way, though.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.” Harry looks towards the curtain covered window, lost in thought.

“Harry?”

“Why are you here, Niall?” He inquires, his tone cold.

Niall fidgets with a loose string on his jeans. “I-I was worried about you.”

“But… Why? Up till now you haven't given a shite about me. So why see me when I'm seriously hurt?”

“I'm not heartless, Harry,” niall explains. “If you were cosmically connected to someone who got hurt, wouldn't you go see them?”

Harry gives him a knowing look, eyes devoid of any kindness. “I am cosmically connected to someone. It's you, you arse.”

“Okay okay. Don't bite my head off. I know I haven't exactly been nice.”

“I'll say.”

“But I—“

“No, Niall. I'm tired. I don't want to hear your excuses. So if you'll please—“

“I dream about you every night!” Niall admits, eyes shut, bracing himself.

When the silence in the dreary room becomes too unbearable, he yields, chancing a glance at Harry. Saying that he's shocked is an understatement. The anguish from his face has burned to a heated red of embarrassment, akin to how Niall felt hearing the same confession.

“Wow.”

“I know. I should've said it when you did, but I couldn't come to terms with admitting something so haunting.”

Harry chuckles. “I'm a ghost now?”

Niall joins the hysterics. “I guess so.”

They stare at each other for a moment, the silence falling over them again, but it's comforting. “Are we…?” Harry bravely omits.

“Yeah. I think we're finally starting to get somewhere,” the blonde scratches his neck nervously. “I'm not saying I'm one hundred percent on the whole soulmate thing, but I'm at least willing to try to get to know you.”

“So all it takes is for me to get hurt for you to try to get closer? I think I can manage that,” Harry jokes but Niall's sudden terrified reaction has him jolting back in bed. “Okay, I won't do it on purpose.”

“Please do not. I don't like waking up in a cold sweat because you decide to get yourself in an accident.”

“Fair enough.”

It may not be much, but Harry's happy he can finally get Niall to soften up a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos or comments are appreciated.  
> my tumblr is kissperingniall.tumblr.com if you want to follow me
> 
> Special thanks goes out to my teacher who inspired me to continue writing this.  
> Also a shout out to Suz for literally reading every piece of this chapter as I updated it. You've been and always will be my rock. Love you babe xxx  
> Thank you to all of my supporters. I couldn't do this without you :)


	3. LAY YOUR LOVE ON ME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gasps, pointing his left arm to the sky. “Look Niall! A shooting star!”  
> Niall weakly glances up at the dark clouds, eyeing the plane flying overhead. He hiccups. “Harry. That’s a plane –hic—you dummy.”   
> “Oh,” his excited finger curls as Harry frowns. “I’m still going to wish upon it.”  
> “Even if you keep it to yourself, it won’t come true.”  
> “Sure it will,” he chuckles, swaying as he turns to Niall. “I wish that you have a good year, Niall.”  
> Wide eyed, Niall stares up to him, feeling smaller than he usually does. As stupid as wishing on a flying plane is, the sincere hope behind it has his heart racing. Or maybe that’s the alcohol.   
> Either way, Niall chalks it up to Harry’s sweet stupidity and nudges him playfully. “Thanks. I wish that you have a good year, too, mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mentions of suicide in this chapter. 
> 
> I'm super stoked to hear what you think of this chapter. Colours has reached 45 pages and 16k words! So exciting.

“So I'm just going to ask, what happened last night?” Liam states over breakfast the next morning. Niall's mid-bite when he pauses, nervous to answer. “Did you hit something in your sleep?”

“Sort of, yeah,” he lightly explains, feeding his spoonful of cereal to his mouth.

“Why'd you run out of here at almost midnight, then?”

Niall looks away. He really doesn't know how to tell Liam about Harry. “A friend was in an accident last night. I went and saw him in the hospital.” He explains instead. It's okay if he's vague, right?

“Matty?”

Dammit Liam. Stop asking questions!

Niall curses to himself. “No. You don't know him.” He gets up to put his bowl in the sink. “I'm gonna go see him for a few. I'll see you later, Li.” Niall grabs his wallet and keys from the counter, heading towards the door.

“Oh-okay.” Liam breathes, his eyes curiously following Niall as he leaves. “Oh! I'm getting food tomorrow, do you have your money for it?” He calls after him. Niall pops back through the door.

“Yeah. I'll leave my portion and my list on the counter tonight.” That was the deal. Niall could stay with him as long as he needed to as long as he helped pay for food. He had no problem with that. It's cheaper than paying rent anyways.

“Thanks. See you later, Ni.”

 

*

 

Seeing Harry sitting up in bed, Niall feels a little better. His long, chocolate hair is a mess, but somehow it works for him. Harry’s eyes look exhausted, bloated from not sleeping properly. Niall's familiar with the way hospitals treat your body. It's uncomfortable having to lay in bed for most of the day.

Harry's surrounded by his friends, and suddenly Niall feels unwelcome. Nervously he stands in the door way. Their eyes are on him instantly, and maybe, he thinks, this was a bad idea.

However, as sweet as Harry's ever been to him, he invites Niall inside, a bright smile on his fatigued face. “Hey Niall. Happy to see you here,” he practically sings, but the glare in Louis’ eyes says otherwise. The guy sitting next to him looks familiar but he can't place a name.

“I don't think we've formally met. I'm Zayn.” He extends his hand to Niall politely, but Louis grabs his hand possessively. Apparently he definitely doesn't like him. That's fine, if Niall's got anything to say about it. He's not into the whole soulmate thing and if he makes an enemy out of him, then whatever.

“ _We're_ soulmates.”

There it is. The ever wonderful avariciousness that Niall's grown to hate.

“Good to know,” he grumbles, taking a seat next to Harry. Niall passes a kind smile his way, ignoring Louis. “How are you feeling today?”

“Like ass, but I'll live,” Harry chuckles. “What brings you here?”

“Thought I'd check on you. Are you allowed to go outside yet? It's actually sunny for winter, and the snow looks pretty.”

“I don't think it's a good idea for Harry to—” Louis starts but Harry interjects.

“I'll call the nurse for a wheelchair.” He presses the button next to his bed and within moments, the nurse ushers in.

“Yes Harry?”

“Would I be able to get a wheelchair? I'd like to go outside.”

She ponders the idea and allows it. Disappearing to go get one.

 

Harry reaches weakly for the chair once it's arrived, but ultimately, Niall and the nurse help him into it. He's careful not to put too much pressure on Harry's back, scared he'll hurt him even more. Niall places a blanket over Harry's lengthy legs, tucking it in securely. The nurse sends him a knowing smile, grateful for the assistance.

“How long ago did you two find each other?”

Oh boy.

“Oh, umm…” Niall doesn't know how to answer.

“Thank you, Joyce. Well only be gone for a half hour, I promise,” Harry diverts, looking at Niall to push him out of the room.

Louis—albeit reluctant to be spending more time with Niall—and Zayn follow them silently.

 

It's midday, and the snow has melted from the darkened branches. There's a slight halo over the peaks of the snow banks, sparkling about them as Niall leads Harry to the outskirts of the hospital’s courtyard.

“You're right. It is pretty.”

Niall grins, proud. “I knew you'd like it. Winter is my favourite season.”

“Oh?”

“Reminds me of life before…” He trails, not really wanting to say it.

Harry instantly picks up on where he's going. “Oh… I see.”

“No offense to you, I just really find it nostalgic.”

Louis scoffs. “Bloody colour hater.”

Zayn nudges him, frowning. “Lou…”

“No. Don't ‘Lou’ me. I'm just stating facts.”

“C'mon. Niall's a good guy,” Zayn defends. Niall smiles gratefully.

He leans in and whispers to Harry, “I don't think Louis likes me very much.”

“He'll come around,” Harry pauses. “Eventually.” His afterthought is decorated with a lovely laugh and Niall can feel his heart race.

He shakes the feeling off his shoulders, frowning. “I don't think I like him very much either.”

“Most don't. He's a hard pill to swallow.”

“That's what she said!” Zayn calls.

Louis groans. “I'm going inside. It's cold.” With that, he turns quickly towards the hospital, Zayn tailing him.

Now that they're alone, Niall isn't sure what to do or say.

The silence is nice, if he's honest. He loves how the world seems so at peace during winter. Loves the way he can tune out distractions and focus on his thoughts.

Usually he loves it.

But right now...

All Niall can think about is Harry. The way his wavy hair is getting curvier the longer they stay out in the humid air. The slow, soft puffs of air exhaling from his nose as he stares out at the horizon. He can hear the gentle chatter of Harry's teeth as he gets colder, and Niall sort of admires that he doesn't say a word.

Niall glances at the white cast on Harry's right arm, and he wants to sign it. In high school, he was always the first one to sign someone's cast, being one of the popular guys. He supposes it's because he was always cracking jokes, making friends with everyone despite their differences. Back then, Niall didn't mind it when someone would randomly touch him, not thinking anything of it.

In his final year of school he seriously starting dating, hoping that his feelings came across genuinely. Too bad that all of that time was spent just so others could find their “one”, a detail he didn't realize till his last girlfriend.

“Why do you hate colour so much?” Harry asks, yanking Niall from his thoughts.

He gazes down at him, breathless seconds passing like years. Only one person has ever asked him, and Liam would be the one to relate.

But Harry?

How could he understand?

“I realized I couldn't see colour when I was ten. I didn't really think much of it, and I was content with only seeing black and white. It took a while to notice that I wasn't any different than anyone else. When I was fifteen, my best friend found her soulmate. She slowly stopped paying mind to me and more to her girlfriend. I thought that was normal,” Niall starts. Harry's staring up at him, curious to hear more. His eyes are impatient, but kind. Niall appreciates it.

He takes a seat on the bench next to him, resting his arm over the back of it, giving his attention to Harry. “Then I started dating. I figured that my relationships ended so quickly because we were young and dumb, trying to rush feelings that weren't exactly there. Then my last girlfriend, Daisy. Oh she was a looker. I thought she could be the one.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh no is right. The first time she held my hand was the last. She told me she couldn't see the colours of the sky and she couldn't be with me.” Niall smirks in respite. “It didn't take long before I connected the dots.”

“Niall… That's really rough.”

“I can't say it's the only reason I hate it, but it definitely threw me over the edge.” Niall faces away from Harry, watching patients roll by in their wheelchairs. He likes the way the sun’s rays bounce off the spindles of the wheels, anything but white. When he returns to Harry's stare, he's reflecting an understanding expression. “I don't think you can relate, but I'm not sure I'll ever come to terms with the specifics of seeing colour.”

“I get it.” Niall gives him a look. “No, really. I knew someone very close to me that hated colour too.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah…” Harry trails, staring at his blanketed feet.

“If you don't want to talk about it…”

Harry smiles half-heartedly. “I'm starting to get cold. Can we go inside?”

 

*

 

“Thank you for coming to see me,” Harry says after Louis and Zayn leave. Niall nods.

“When are you getting released?”

Harry shrugs. “The doctor says he wants me to stay a couple more nights for observation and then I can go home. I won't be able to work until my ribs are at least healed.”

“It'll be six weeks before they're healed though,” Niall mentions. “How are you going to be able to take care of things?”

He's referring to his bills and Harry sighs. “I've been wracking my brain trying to think about that. I'll probably lose my apartment if I can't find a roommate.”

“I see.”

Harry smiles anyways. “It'll all work out. The cosmos always has a way of helping me out in the strangest ways.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” Niall remarks. “But I'm glad I can get to know you. I guess Louis was right. You're a pretty cool guy, Harry.”

“You've gathered that just from talking for thirty minutes?” He laughs.

“It's all in the observation. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“You got it.”

 

*

 

The second Niall walks through the door, Liam's pummeling him with questions again. This is going to get old real quick.

“How's your friend?”

“He's good. A broken arm and fractured ribs, but other than that, good.”

“What's his name?”

Niall sets his keys down on the counter, heading to the fridge for a beer. He cracks it open, taking a much needed swig from it. “Harry,” he finally gives, meeting Liam's prying eyes for the first time since he walked in.

“How come I've never met him?”

“Liam. When did you become so investigative? You usually don't care about what I do or who I'm with.”

Liam fidgets with his fingers, looking away. “I'm just curious is all.”

“You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat.”

“Niall.” He warns.

With a sigh, Niall gestures for him to sit at the table with him. He's nervous how this conversation’s going to go, but if he keeps this from Liam any longer, he feels like he's going to explode. Liam takes a seat across from Niall, patiently waiting for his response. “Do you remember my last gig? The one where Matty was trying to get some bird to go home with him?”

“Vaguely, yes. You intervened right? Why?”

“Harry's the guy he was trying to pick up on.”

“I see. But what was with intervening? Normally you don't care—”

Niall holds up a finger. “I was getting to that.”

“Oh.”

So he tells him. Everything. From meeting Harry, to seeing colour, to avoiding him until the cosmos wouldn't allow it anymore. He leaves out the little things, like the dreams, and his nightmare of Harry's accident. Those are already too much to swallow as it is.

Liam's silent. Eyes watching Niall's every move, but nothing expressive comes out of him. It's terrifying what he's thinking, because he really doesn't want to lose Liam's friendship.

When he finally speaks, his tone is sharp enough to cut through walls. “So you like colour now?”

“N-No. That's not something that could easily happen.”

“Last night when you slammed against the wall? You were losing your colour?”

Niall nods.

“You were scared to lose it.”

He's shaking. Niall's never heard Liam sound so blunt and it's got him shaking all the way to the bone. Fuck. Maybe this was a bad idea. “I-I was scared Harry was dying, Li.”

Liam's eyes get darker under the dim lighting of their tiny dining room. Shadows hooding over half of his face. It's like the start of a horror scene and Niall's gripping the edges of his seat for the worst. “After avoiding Harry for four months, suddenly you're caring if anything happens to him? Do you love him?”

“Of course not!” Niall bites. Why does he feel like he's cheated? This isn't right. This isn't fair. “How could I possibly be in love with someone I've barely gotten to know?”

“But you care about him?”

“Wouldn’t any rational human being?”

Liam relaxes into his chair, expression falling from stern to sullen. “Why isn't it me?” He whispers, Niall barely making him out. “Of course it's not me. But I didn't think I'd lose you so soon, too.”

“Liam… I'm not going anywhere.” Niall tries to reassure, extending a kind hand towards him. Liam swats it away.

“But why isn't it me?!” He shouts to the heavens, the chair squeaking backwards as he rises from his seat. Liam's hands are clenched into tight fists, shaking uncontrollably. “I've loved you for three years. I've always been there, but it was never going to be me. I hate this. I hate this!”

Niall watches him, shocked. He never realized Liam's feelings before. How had he not? He wishes he could take back all the things he's said, just so he didn't have to see his best friend in pain like this. He feels his heart breaking.

It feels like they've broken up.

“Liam, I don't have feelings for Harry.”

“Yet. Oh you will. It's just a matter of time,” Liam bites. “The more time you spend with him, the more you'll begin to love him. The more you'll start to like colour and that'll be the end of everything. You'll leave me behind too. Just like everyone else.”

Niall gets up, only for Liam to shy further away. “No Niall. I don't want to hear another word.” He adds, leaving before Niall can think to stop him.

He punches the door, angry at himself.

Fuck.

 

*

 

Two days go by and Liam still hasn't come home. Niall hates this. Hates waking up to an empty apartment that feels greyer than it ever had before. If he could go back in time, this would be one of those moments that he'd fix in a heartbeat.

He's called Liam's phone hundreds of times, he's sure, all to either be sent straight to voicemail or completely ignored. It got to the point where Niall thinks Liam turned his phone off or just blocked him for the time being. Niall's thought about looking for him, but every time he went to do it, something would stop him when he'd reach the door.

What if he came home while he was looking for him? Or, what if he found him and it made things worse?

It's better to leave him alone for a while, let him figure out his own feelings while Niall dissects his own.

Niall feels the guilt race through his blood like it’s the only thing that exists within him. It torments him. Prevents him from even going to see Harry and he hates that too.

Harry hadn't sent him a text or even called him, but its okay.

Niall wouldn't know what to say anyways.

Maybe it's better if they don't get to know each other. Not if it means losing Liam too.

Niall groans, agonizing over his reflection in the mirror of their cozy bathroom. He looks dead. Eyes shadowed with deep bags, cheeks sunken in slightly because he can barely eat. He looks devoid of colour, and somehow it's nostalgically deserved. It reminds him of his father and the way he looked after he and his mum began their divorce.

It really does feel like they broke up.

His phone starts ringing, vibrating so violently that it falls from its perch into the basin of the sink. Niall answers it quickly, hoping it’s him.

“Liam?”

“No. It's Harry,” he sings.

“O-Oh,” Niall answers, voice fading.

“Who's Liam?”

“My best friend.” Niall navigates into the living room, slumping carelessly onto the couch. He lays his head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling. “What's up?”

“I'm getting released today, but everyone's busy. I was hoping you could take me home?”

Oh right. That is today. “I'm sorry Harry but I—” Okay that's not fair. Harry's injured and it's not like Niall was the first person he called for help. At this point it would be a dick move if he didn't help him. “I haven't taken a shower yet. Give me an hour?”

“Okay,” Harry chimes nonchalantly. It's almost as if he doesn't notice the sadness in Niall's voice. “And when you get here, we can talk about what's making you so sad.”

Didn't he say almost?

“Yeah…”

 

*

 

They sit in silence for most of the drive to Harry's place. Niall can see him sending glances his way every now and then, but Harry's good at not bringing anything up. Maybe he's just waiting for Niall to say something? If so, Niall wouldn't know where to start.

Like, oh by the way, I lost my best friend because you came into my life. Thanks a lot.

Yeah. That's not fair.

“Zayn went missing.” Harry blurts. Niall turns to acknowledge him, then stares back at the road.

“What do you mean, missing?”

“Louis says they got into a fight Monday after seeing me. He hasn't been home since.”

Monday, huh? The last time Niall saw Liam too.

“He's out looking for Zayn right now, actually. That's why he couldn't come get me.”

“What'd they get in a fight over?”

Harry laughs. “You, actually. Zayn was defending you and Louis couldn't take it. He blew his top at him and Zayn left in anger.”

“Over me?” Okay, that's pretty laughable. “That's silly.”

“Zayn just wants Louis to let me decide for myself. As much as I can, to be fair. It's not like the cosmos, or whatever being decided this, gives us reasons for why we're meant to be with someone or what we're meant to do.”

Niall grips the steering wheel, tight. If only he could get Liam to understand that too. “It's not like I'm the worst person in the world. I didn't get to decide this either.”

He can feel the way Harry tenses up in the seat next to him.

“No offense to you.”

“Sure,” Harry murmurs, resting his head against the window. “Thanks for taking me home. Sorry if I'm being a bit of a nuisance.”

“No, I needed to get out of the house. The fresh air is nice right now.”

“Have things been all right at home?”

It's like Harry can read his mind. It's sort of annoying. “No. My best friend went MIA on Monday too.”

Harry frowns. “That's not good. What happened?”

Niall quickly slams on the brakes, barely making the line at the stop light. “Fuck!” He palms the steering wheel hard. “Sorry. I wasn't paying attention.” Glancing to Harry, he can see the small blotch of blood seeping through the breast of his shirt. “Oh shit. Did I just open a wound?”

Harry grimaces. “The doctors told me not to be too rough with the stitches. I guess a piece of glass from my windshield pierced through my skin and they had to sew me up.”

“Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't…”

“It's okay,” he smiles weakly. “It'll heal. I'll just put a gauze over it when I get home.”

“Let me do it.”

“I'm fine, Niall. I can do it.”

“Please,” he begs, staring determined at him.

“Okay.”

 

Harry's apartment is quite spacious for only one person living here. It's covered in papers on almost every surface Niall can identify. Other than that, there's barely a lick of dust for a place that hasn't been touched in days. He must keep it clean normally.

Niall helps Harry to his bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit with Harry's directions, and pulls his bloodied shirt off. His chest is bruised deeply, blotches of dark blues and purples amidst the tan skin, lining the curves of his damaged ribs. The offending wound is so small, Niall wonders how it's even bleeding. There's four small sutures, coated in red.

He laughs. “It's barely even a wound and yet it's acting like it’s the worst injury on your body.”

Harry smirks. “I'll say. My body's a baby when it comes to getting hurt. I'm usually inside so much that I barely get hurt. So when I do, it's usually a big deal. My mum hated that when I was growing up.”

Niall stares up at him, observing the deep dimple that forms under Harry's cheek when he smiles. He thinks about how he wants to poke it, but quickly shakes that weird urge off. Harry's bright, like the sun. He blinds Niall by how positive he is.

It's admirable.

He grabs the alcohol and a cotton swab, cleaning the blood from his cut before dressing it with the gauze. Niall wraps it carefully. “Let me get you a clean shirt.”

“I can get it,” Harry tries, but Niall gives him a dangerous look. He surrenders. “They're in the second drawer.”

With a proud smile, Niall gets up and heads into Harry's room. Compared to the rest of the apartment, this room is safe from the drowning papers. Niall doesn't think he's ever seen such an organized room before, and it too, is blinding.

He hates how Harry has somehow kept all of the furniture matching. His room is a contrasting dark blue and grey popping out at Niall. “How the hell did he manage that without colour?”

Niall opens the drawer, settling on a black shirt before returning to Harry.

“Again, I'm sorry for this.”

Harry shrugs, slowly inching his casted arm through the sleeve, pulling the rest of the fabric over his toned torso. Niall gulps, looking away. The last thing he should be doing is checking him out, and here he is, doing just that.

He wants to kick himself in the ass.

Harry gets to his feet, his long hair falling from its comfortable position on his shoulders. “Did you want some tea? Or coffee? Or maybe a beer? Probably not a beer. You're driving,” he mumbles, glancing every which way but at Niall. It takes a moment, but Niall notices that Harry's nervous.

“I don't have to leave right away. I could go for a beer,” he muses, grinning.

With a curt nod, Harry shuffles slowly into the kitchen, moving a few papers magnetically attached to the door to open it.

“Are you a student?” Niall finally asks.

“Mhm. I'm an English major.” He grabs the beer, passing it carefully to Niall. “Sorry for the mess.”

Niall opens the can, the loud, fizzy crack echoing throughout the silent apartment. “Nah, it's cool actually. Everything seems so chaotically organized.”

Harry scratches his head with a chuckle. “Yeah. But now I have to learn how to write with my left hand.”

Niall looks to his arm, still wanting to sign the damned thing. “I could teach you.”

“You're left handed?” Then Harry thinks about it. “Right. I should've known that by the way you hold your guitar,” he chuckles. “But you don't have to help me. I'll figure it out. Probably just end up typing on the computer anyways.”

“That'll take you ages, though,” Niall remarks, sipping from the can. “I could type it for you?” Niall has no idea why he's offering, but just looking at Harry has him feeling empathetic. He can tell by the hundreds of papers that he has to be working on a big paper.

“No need. I have to go home for Christmas tomorrow anyways.”

Niall completely forgot that's this Friday. “Oh. Right. That's why you were going home in the first place.”

“Mhm,” Harry hums against the rim of his own beer. “I'm sure you're busy with that too.”

Niall leans against the counter, finding the one empty space to settle his elbows against. “I haven't been home in three years, actually.”

Harry pauses his next drink, eyeing Niall carefully. “Really? Why?”

He reminds Niall of a cat. The way his almond shaped eyes stare widely at him, their bright green irises peering straight into his soul. His questions don't bother him though. While he's not willing to give up all of his secrets, he doesn't mind answering some of them.

“I don't really get on with my family well. Not since the divorce.”

“You're a child of divorce too?” Harry remarks, fascinated. “I thought that was such a rare thing.”

“So did I. My parents never did remarry.”

“Mine did. It's all right, just not the same as it used to be. I guess sometimes you don't get to be with your soulmate.”

“I guess not.”

The ever famous silence returns to them, mulling through the air like a long lost friend.

“My brother—” Niall begins.

“My parents—” Harry says.

They both start, glancing at each other in surprise. Then they're laughing, settling their beers on the counter as they gather themselves.

“You go,” Harry offers.

“No, what were you going to say?”

With a spiteful smile, Harry continues his thought. “My parents weren't the same after Gemma passed.”

Oh.

 _Maybe I should've started_ , Niall thinks.

“I've known people who've lost their soulmate. The way it changes them. It's not just losing the ability to see colour, it's losing a piece of them that they can't replace. I mean, how do you fix that, right?” Harry sighs. “When we lost Gemma, I saw the colour fade from my parents. She was the one thing that made them more than just soulmates. Being parents was more of a gift than the sight of colour. Then, fourteen years after she was born…” He trails, staring out at the bay window of his loft.

“What happened?” Niall braves.

Harry closes his eyes, that sad smile still attached to his face. “She got her heart broken, bad. We were young when we realized what colour meant. So, we longed for it so badly that sometimes it drove us mad. I guess Gemma had it worse than I knew. She started dating this guy. She knew he wasn't her soulmate, but she fell so hard for him that it didn't matter.” He gives a small laugh. “I remember when she told me ‘Harry, there will come a day when you meet someone who means the world to you. Whether they're your soulmate or not, it won't matter because the heart wants what it wants and you can't fight that.’ So she didn't.

“Come to find out, her boyfriend was her best friend’s soulmate. But Gemma couldn't give him up. I guess he couldn't give her up either, but the soulmate business, it changes people. Almost like it manipulates your brain into thinking differently than you normally would. You see it every day. The way people suddenly change once they find them. It's like they no longer exist as an individual. Louis wasn't like how he is now.”

Niall nods. He knows that story so well.

“Gemma hated colour because of this. She hated how suddenly her best friend wasn't her friend anymore. Constantly getting bullied, day after day, because she refused to let her have him. People aren't things to be owned, she'd always tell her, but her friend couldn't hear that. Blinded by madness, she beat Gemma up one day. I think that was the catalyst.”

“Fuck,” is all Niall can breathe out. He's heard horror stories about things like this, but never heard it go that far. People usually just give in and let things go “the way they were intended”.

“My parents had no idea she was suffering like that. The first day she came home with bruises on her body, she refused to own up to it. No matter how much my parents pried. Then it got worse.” Harry takes another deep breath. “The bruises started getting worse, deeper, darker marks upon her body to the point that she could barely move. She kept going to school, only to come back worse than she did in the morning.”

“Harry…” Niall wants him to stop. He hates how disgusting everything sounds. No one should ever have to go through that kind of pain.

“She would never give him up. Even after he left her for her safety.”

“Harry, you don't have to explain anymore.” Niall pleads.

The silence falls over them again, this time Niall's afraid it'll stay that way. But as always, Harry surprises him, knocking the back of his fist against Niall's hand. “Hey,” he smiles lightly. “Thanks for listening, anyways.”

Niall nods, “I may be an ass, but I'll become your favourite in no time.” It's a joke, but it has Harry blushing bright red.

Uh oh.

That's Niall's cue to leave, but as he's about to say goodbye, they can hear the loud yells from the hallway.

“Where the hell did you go?! You had me so worried!” It's Louis. Niall groans internally.

“None of your damned business. I'm not your possession, Louis. I'm my own damned person if you'd stop it with the soulmate bullshite.”

That's Zayn. Now Niall can see why the guy has always been on his side.

Louis scoffs. “Excuse me? You think I woke up one morning and decided that I own you? Fuck that. We're apart of each other, and I get concerned when you don't let me know you're all right. You could've been dead on the street for all I know.”

“Wouldn’t you know if I was dead?” Zayn bites. It makes Niall's hair stand up.

“Shit,” Harry curses, quickly heading towards the door, only to grasp his chest in pain. Niall comes to his side, supporting him as he opens the front door.

Louis and Zayn are in front of their own apartment, teeth clenched, fists tight, looking like they're ready to fight.

Harry gasps from the throbbing pain, but manages to get his words out. “Would you two at least go inside? You're disturbing the neighbors.”

They look to the two of them, expressions falling. “Oh shit. Harry, shouldn't you be in bed?” Zayn comments.

“Great, _you're_ here.” Louis rolls his eyes at Niall, receiving a deserved finger.

“This is what I'm talking about. Stop it. You're getting on my nerves,” Zayn growls at his boyfriend.

“It wouldn't get on your nerves if you'd just take my side.” Louis sings angrily.

“Go. Inside.” Harry warns. It takes a moment, but they surrender, continuing their argument in the safety of their own home. Harry loudly sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If one thing, they're bloody good at arguing.”

Niall chuckles, helping Harry back inside. “I think you need to get into bed.”

“You're probably right. Thanks again, Niall.”

“Don't mention it.”

Niall tucks him into bed, turning the TV on for Harry before he goes to leave. As an afterthought, he turns to Harry, smiling, “If you need anything…”

“I'll text you. No worries. I'm sure I can handle things from here out.”

“Okay.”

“It was good talking with you. I like how easy it is to just say what I want to say.”

“You too, Harry. Good night.”

“It's still morning!” Harry calls after him. Niall’s laughter echoes all the way from the front door.

 

*

 

Liam doesn't come him until New Year's Eve. He's drunker than his father on St. Patrick's Day that one time his family went to the states when he was nineteen. Why that country thinks it's cool for the legal drinking age to be twenty-one is beyond Niall, but he still snuck in some drinks, either way.

Liam collapses on the couch, feet lying haphazardly about it, and he instantly passes out. Niall snorts, grabbing the spare blanket and throws it over him.

His phone vibrates with a text notification, and he smirks at the silly photo Harry sent of him standing next to a snowman. He's got its carrot nose in his mouth, and its charcoal eyes look like they're glaring at him.

They've been messaging on and off since last Wednesday. Harry's mum came to pick him up and threw a fit over him attempting to clean up his apartment. Apparently that was a fiasco in itself. Then she wouldn't let him drink eggnog because the alcohol would mess with his pain pills, so Harry had sent Niall a picture of him with a sad face on Snapchat.

Liam never came home with groceries, so Niall had taken a series of pictures of him going shopping, ending with him finding a Rudolph decoration that loops candy.

He instantly bought it.

Harry thought it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

Niall played a gig the night after Christmas, so he had Maddie take a video so he could send it to Harry.

If it weren't for their daily conversations, Niall would've felt lonely.

Now that Liam's home, Niall's nervous to talk to him.

Niall's phone vibrates again.

Harry: I'm coming home today! We should go to the pub tonight. :)

Niall: what about your meds ?

Harry: are you my mum or my friend who wants to get shitfaced with me?

Niall: I suppose I'm your friend. It'd be weird if I pooped a giant like you out 

Harry: :P You’re just short.

Niall: How does it feel being able to see the city all the way from the top of the Alps ? :D

Harry: Pretty awesome. Looks like you’re starting to bald, though bahaha

Niall actually checks to see if he’s right. He rolls his eyes, tittering his fingers across his phone.

Niall: I’ll be there at ten, don’t be late.

Niall pockets the device, glancing at the time on his watch. Only two in the afternoon. He has a few hours to take a nap before getting ready.

 

*

 

Liam finally wakes while Niall’s getting ready. He’s mid-brush when he hears the loud, hungover groan from the living room. Niall peeks out of the bathroom long enough to see Liam roll face first off the couch to the linoleum floor, moaning from the fall.

“Fuck.”

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Have yourself a nice nap?”

Liam lifts his head up enough to glare one eye at him.

“All right then. Guess we’re still not talking. Cool.” He remarks, returning to his reflection in the mirror. Liam shuffles to his feet, practically pounding the floor with his heavy steps.

“You going out?” Liam yawns, scratching the underside of his belly.

“Yeah. Got invited for drinks. You look like shite.”

“Thanks, mate. Love you too.” Liam grunts. Finally taking in his own words, he falls silent, wide eyed at Niall. “I mean…”

“We’ll talk later. Don’t think I’m done with you.”

“Sorry for leaving like that. I was angry.”

“No way? I couldn’t tell.”

Liam frowns. “Don’t be an arse.”

Niall pushes his hair back with hairspray, making sure not a single strand is loose before feeling satisfied. “It’s the only thing I’m really good at, Li. You know that.” He pats Liam’s cheek fondly, heading to the counter for his keys, not forgetting to grab his black leather jacket by the door. “Don’t wait up. I’ll be out late.”

“Kay,” Liam waves him off, shuffling exhaustedly down the hall to his room. Harry

 

*

 

Maddie’s pub is bustling more than usual tonight and Niall loves it. To his recommendation, she hired Matty as a bar back for the night, something she seems to be grateful for. She barely looks like she can keep up with the stock of beer. Niall approaches the bar, comfortably leaning against his usual spot.

“Hey Maddie squared.” Both of them regard him with sardonic glances. His grins cheekily. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

“Want your usual, love?” Maddie offers even if she appears ready to pounce on him.

“Yes please. Can you get me two actually? Waiting for a friend.”

Maddie glances out at the crowd, pointing at a lone patron. “You mean that fella over there? He looks nice.”

Niall stares in the direction of her finger, spotting Harry instantly. He’s dressed simply, wearing a dark, hooded duffle coat with a crème coloured scarf draped lazily over his shoulders. There’s rips at the knees in his black jeans, but Niall’s certain he’s seen that pair before. Harry’s arm is still slung, hiding carefully under his coat, the white knuckles of his cast peeping out. His hair is laid back, wavy tresses pooling over and under his coat.

Niall’s glad he actually put effort into his attire.

Maddie hands him his beer, leaving him to meet up with his friend.

“Happy New Years,” Niall whispers into Harry’s unsuspecting ear, eliciting a shocked reaction from the latter. Niall laughs boisterously. “Good to see you too.”

“You scared me!” Harry sarcastically growls, his façade quickly broken by his telltale smile. “How was your week?”

Niall drinks from his pint before setting it on the table. “Would’ve been shite if you hadn’t been texting me at all hours.”

“Aww, did I save you from yourself?” Harry jokes, nudging him with his free arm.

Niall shrugs, admitting it, “A little bit yeah. Liam came back today.”

“Any idea where he was?”

“Nope. I’ll talk to him about it later though. Wanna head outside?”

Harry nods, grabbing his drink and following Niall out to the patio.

 

They’re several drinks in by the time the final countdown of the year begins. It’s the most nerve inducing sixty seconds of Niall’s life because all he can think about are the plump pink lips belonging to the guy next to him. Harry’s just staring blankly out at the snowy night, drunkenly unaware of Niall’s wandering eyes. Good thing too, Niall’s terribly drunken state has him seeing more stars than usual and he’s certain he looks dumb to the normal eye.

Harry gasps, pointing his left arm to the sky. “Look Niall! A shooting star!”

Niall weakly glances up at the dark clouds, eyeing the plane flying overhead. He hiccups. “Harry. That’s a plane –hic—you dummy.”

“Oh,” his excited finger curls as Harry frowns. “I’m still going to wish upon it.”

“Even if you keep it to yourself, it won’t come true.”

“Sure it will,” he chuckles, swaying as he turns to Niall. “I wish that you have a good year, Niall.”

Wide eyed, Niall stares up to him, feeling smaller than he usually does. As stupid as wishing on a flying plane is, the sincere hope behind it has his heart racing. Or maybe that’s the alcohol.

Either way, Niall chalks it up to Harry’s sweet stupidity and nudges him playfully. “Thanks. I wish that you have a good year, too, mate.”

The crowd inside begins cheering the final ten seconds.

They stare at each other for the next nine, and just as Niall’s about to kiss Harry, he keels over the fence, puking his guts up. With a relieved sigh, Niall rubs His back, holding his hair just in case. “Of course you’d throw up. I told you not to mix alcohol with your meds.”

“Shut up,” Harry gags. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“Well now I’m the mum that pooped a giant like you out.”

 

*

 

Niall wakes up to the worst hangover. He’s not sure how many drinks he had, but at least he made it home. Groaning to life, he rubs his eye while reaching for his phone, smiling weakly at the “I’m home” text from Harry at almost two in the morning.

_We’re we really out that late? Fuck._

He gets to his feet, shuffling into the bathroom for a wee. Liam calls him from the living room, voice too loud for Niall to bear.

“Ugh. I’ve got a shite headache, mate. Keep it down, will ya?”

“Can we talk?” Liam asks, coming up to the door, voice softer this time. Niall opens the door, toilet flushing behind him loudly too.

“Fuck,” he curses, finger twisting in his ear to dull the noise. “What’s up?”

“It’s about Harry.”

“What about him?”

“I’m not okay knowing about him,” Liam admits.

“Excuse me?”

Liam glances to the side. “I really don’t think I can be okay with this,” he gestures to the both of them. “Not when I can’t get a hold on my feelings. One second I want to kiss you and then the next I want to go punch Harry for even existing.”

“That’s terrible to think about, Li. Harry didn’t nothing to you.”

“He stole you from me.”

Niall rolls his eyes. He’s really not in the mood for this right now. “I’m no ones, Liam. I’m not something that can be owned. I’m a human being with my own mind.” He beelines for the kitchen, pulling the milk carton out and drinks straight from the spout.

“I hate when you do that.” Liam snarls, arms folded over his chest.

Niall glares at him, shuts the milk carton and replaces it. “Yeah? Well it’s my milk that I had to go get myself because you decided to go MIA over something I have no control over.”

“And yet, you’re not denying Harry either.”

Niall extends his arms in surrender. “What the hell do you want me to do about it? I’m sorry I didn’t know about your feelings, Liam. But do you think it would’ve changed things? I haven’t dated anyone in three years. I’m not even dating Harry. It’s called friendship. Something I thought maybe you and I had an understanding of.”

“Things change, Niall. People change. You’re just like the rest of those colour loving freaks. Giving in to the manipulative qualities finding your soulmate comes with.”

“Do you even hear yourself? You sound like a bloody soap opera.”

Liam clenches his teeth. “Get out.”

“What?”

“I need you out. I can’t stand to have you here when you’re going to fight me in my own home.”

Niall exhales loudly. “Whatever makes you feel better, mate. I’ll be out in twenty. Call me when my best friend comes back, will ya?”

“Fuck you.”

 

**

 

It’s three in the afternoon when there’s a rushed knock at Harry’s door. He’s barely coherent, but he can hear the roaring slaps of raining falling outside his window. The knocks get louder and faster the longer he stays in bed, leaving him no choice but to get up to prevent his headache from getting worse.

Opening the door, he’s greeted with a sight he never thought he’d see in his wildest dreams. “Niall?”

“Hey Harry,” he replies, nervously smiling.

Niall’s drenched from head to toe, droplets of water leaking from the tips of his bleached hair. His eyebrows are jutted up, eyes as wide as a puppy’s. It’s rather cute, if Harry’s honest, and he wants to just cuddle with him to keep him safe from the shivering cold.

He has a duffle bag and his guitar case draped over his back and Harry’s starting to gather a good picture of what’s going on.

“Liam, uh, he kicked me out. C-Can I crash here for a little bit till I get my own place?” The question’s innocent enough, but the sudden drop of Harry’s stomach has him seeing danger on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos or comments are appreciated.  
> my tumblr is kissperingniall.tumblr.com if you want to follow me
> 
> As always, a big thank you to Suz for continuing to help me through all of this! Love you lots xxx  
> Special thanks goes to my best friend for finally reading her first narry fanfiction. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have known how to end this chapter. xxx  
> Thank you to all of my supporters. I really can't do this without all of you. I do this all for you :)


	4. ANYTHING IT TAKES TO MAKE YOU STAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Harry…” He trails, looking down at their hands palmed facedown against the blanket. Niall lifts Harry's hand into his, giving him a small smile. “I think I'm willing to try this with you.”
> 
> Harry's stomach drops. “Are you certain?”
> 
> “Yeah. Everything starts with a sunrise, but it’s what we do before it sets that matters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at 69 pages (snort) and counting! Can't believe how far we've come and this is barely starting. 
> 
> I've kept the slow burn going for so long and this ride won't be stopping for a long while. I'm so excited!
> 
> Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one. I was editing it all night to make it as perfect as possible for you :)

Harry's apartment is cleaner than last time. All of his papers for his manuscript are in a single pile on his desk, and his laptop is open, waiting for Harry to use it. He leads Niall to the spare bedroom across the hall from his own, and invites Niall inside. “This was my office for the longest time, but I like writing while looking out at the city. So I moved to the living room.”

The spare room is nice, colour coated with a dark green and crème set. There's a desk in here too, neighboured with a twin bed. Niall places his bag and guitar case next to the bookstand, glancing to Harry with a grateful smile.

“I promise it won't be for long. I'll even help out with money as much as I can.”

“My mum’s sending me money till I can go back to work. If you'll just get your own food that'll be fine,” Harry remarks. “Stay as long as you need. I like company.”

Niall nods, but he knows that eventually he'll become a nuisance. That's why he always lived on his own. After a while, people get sick of him and kick him out. He's sure Harry's not any different.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you get situated. I'm going to go take a shower. I smell like vomit,” Harry groans, sniffing his shirt. “Don't ever let me drink with these meds again.”

Niall chuckles. “I did warn you.”

“Yeah yeah.” Harry closes the door behind him.

It's awkward, if Niall thinks about it. Living with the person who he's supposed to be with, yet he's not with. So he tries not to think about it. Tries not to think about the gauzy bright eyed floral muffin taking a shower.

What?

Gauzy bright eyed floral muffin?

Niall shakes his head.

_What's wrong with me? How does that even describe Harry in the least bit?_

He's more like a sweet cup of coffee on a Sunday morning.

Okay. He needs to stop. This is going to drive him mad.

 

Niall jumps in the shower after Harry, washing the alcohol from his skin. It's desperately needed and Niall feels his hangover rinse out of his pores, his headache fading. Flashes of last night stun his vision, painting images of him and Harry stumbling back to his apartment. Niall recalls tucking Harry safely in bed, the sweet way he smiled, purring into his pillow before quickly succumbing to sleep. The memory has Niall smiling as he's getting out of the shower.  He tells homself lindmver rinse out of huskstand, glancing to harry

He wipes it away with his reflection in the foggy mirror. There's no need for that kind of emotion right now, he tells himself.

He hears the sizzling pop of bacon cooking in the kitchen and quickly Niall gets dressed, clothes haphazardly draping over his body as he stumbles out of the bathroom. He finds Harry towering over the stove, flipping the bacon with a spatula and it takes every fiber of his body not to stop him. Babying the healing process isn't going to help either of them.

“I could've done that,” Niall chooses instead, leaning against the counter next to the stove. He eyes Harry carefully, watching like a mother lion to her cub.

Harry smirks, continuing his motions. “Pretty sure I'm capable. Want some?”

“I'd love some. Want me to get the plates?”

“Second cabinet to the right of the sink.”

Niall hops to, reaching into the cabinet to pull out the dark blue plates. “Funny.”

“What is?”

“You have blue coloured everything in your life save for the guest room.”

Harry shrugs. “I don't see how that's funny, but okay.”

Niall sets the plates down, regarding Harry with a petulant look. He thinks about the absence of his green themed dreams, wondering if Harry stopped dreaming of blue. How long did he dream of blue? Did it inspire him to make everything else in his life blue as well?

The soulmate thing is weird.

“How did you match everything up? Nothing's mismatched.”

“Louis helped me.”

Of course. How did Niall not think about that?

“I did most of the work though. If it felt like the right colour, I'd pick it. Turns out I was right with majority of it.”

“Felt?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies, setting four strips each onto their respective plates. He hands Niall's to him, taking a strip from its temporary home. “I've always been able to feel colour. Like if someone was mad I'd feel red, or yellow when they're happy. It was the same with the furniture.”

“Interesting. How do I feel?”

Harry stares at him, pursing his lips to the side. “Hmm. Mostly blue with a hint of red. I can tell your feelings over Liam are mixed. Dunno what happened, but…”

“Long, complicated story, that. Maybe some other time.”

“No pressure. Well, I'm going to work on my manuscript. Don't mind me.”

Niall gestures him to go ahead. He wanted to write a song anyways.

 

*

 

It's fun living with Harry. Niall likes seeing the way he gets so buried in his work that he doesn't hear anything else. The way he clumsily types on his laptop with his left hand makes for cute entertainment night after night.

Harry goes to school during the day, leaving Niall at home to work on his songs for his Friday and Saturday night gigs. Maddie ended up getting an extra slot and immediately offered it to Niall.

She said that he brings in such a big crowd that it'd be a stupid business decision not to. How could he say no to that?

When Harry gets home, Niall's usually lost into his songwriting. Sometimes Harry will stick around to listen to him. At first it scared Niall. He's not used to having a personal audience at home, but as the weeks go on, Harry becomes a fixture.

Niall helps him out here and there when Harry needs it. He's three weeks into the healing process, and he's itching to get back to work, but Niall and the doctor keep telling him to play it safe and wait it out.

“But I feel fine. Watch!” Harry will say, then demonstrates extending his body to the side only to stop mid-stretch from the sheer pain. Niall can't help but think, _I told you so_ , while he's putting Harry back to bed.

“You're a handful,” Niall remarks, pulling the comforter fondly over Harry. This has become a weekly routine. Each time he wants to brave it, he’ll attempt to push his limits. It's a wonder he hasn't learned his lesson. “You're like a child. Reminds me of my nephew.”

“You have a sibling?” Harry asks. “Almost a month of you living here and you haven't told me that?”

Niall stares at him, stunned by himself for keeping that detail from him. He shrugs decisively, “I guess it just never came up.”

“Wait…” Harry thinks. “You started to talk about him before Christmas. You have a brother.”

Niall smiles. “That's right.”

“He found his soulmate, too?”

“Mhm. Her name’s Denise. Lovely woman. Mum refuses to meet her though. Says that she'll remind her of the hurt.”

“From the divorce?”

Niall nods.

“Hey Niall. Tell me a bedtime story?”

He laughs, ruffling Harry's hair. “You really _are_ a child.” He pouts up at him. It's too cute for Niall to deny. “Okay. What do you want to hear?”

“Why did you and Liam fight?”

Oh.

“Harry…”

“I really wanna know, Niall. It's become too much to see you blue and red all the time. You're starting to turn purple.”

Niall sighs, bowing his head. “It's not something you really want to hear.”

“Why? Am I going to be sad?”

“Yes.” He answers curtly.

“Tell me anyways. I can take it.”

Niall only shakes his head. “Not tonight. I'll be in my room. Text me or call my name if you need anything.”

Despite not wanting to leave Harry feeling upset, Niall gets up and leaves, ignoring the loud sigh Harry gives.

 

*

 

When Liam shows up at Harry's front door, it's a complete shock. Niall's just staring him over, wondering how in the hell he found him. 

“How did you—”

“I was checking up on you one night and I saw you walk into this apartment building. Who are you living with?”

Before Niall has an opportunity to lie, he's given his answer, “Niall! Who's at the door?” Harry calls, slowly approaching their uninvited guest. “Hi.” He greets, unknowingly. Niall nudges him, shaking his head as a warning.

“Oh, don't tell me. This is _him_ , isn't he?”

Fuck.

 _Liam. Please please don't do this now._ Niall urges, hoping he'll understand the awkward vibe.

But, of course, Liam doesn't hear his silent plea. “If I'd known you'd bunk up with him, I wouldn't have asked you to leave.”

“Are you Liam?” Harry gathers. He smiles sweetly, extending his hand politely. “I'm Harry. It's really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. It's not so nice,” Liam growls, ignoring Harry's kind gesture.

“Oh.” He mouths, hand lowering back to his side.

Niall sighs, “Can we please not do this, Liam?”

“You know what? Fine. I'll let it go for now. Just lovely to see you warm up to the colour lover.”

“Liam stop—”

“Zayn! Don’t forget the milk too! I need it for my cookies!” Louis calls from inside his apartment as Zayn’s closing the door.

“Yeah yeah. I know, I'll see you in an hour.” Upon joining the group in the hallway, he instantly recognizes Liam. “Liam?”

He turns. “Zayn?” Then Liam starts to gather the details. “You're not single?”

“Fuck,” Zayn curses.

Niall and Harry look between the two of them.

What?

“When did Liam leave, again?” Harry whispers to Niall.

“Monday before Christmas. When did Zayn go MIA?”

“Monday before Christmas.”

“Fuck,” they say in unison.

Zayn and Liam glance to Harry and Niall, eyes wide like shocked children.

“Harry, please don't say anything. Please please please. Lou can't know.”

“Zayn,” Harry signs disappointedly. “You fucked up. Bad.”

“You're saying I was the other man the entire time? What the hell, Zayn? That's fucked up.” Liam remarks.

“It was a lack of judgment. I was drunk,” Zayn pleas.

Niall frowns. “I don't even like Louis but I would never do that to someone who's supposed to be my soulmate.”

Liam's flabbergasted, his eyes darting between them. “You're even with your soulmate?! Dude! That's so fucked!”

Zayn bows his head, avoiding their mutual glares. “I'm gonna go.” He says, quickly leaving.

Liam turns back to Harry and Niall. “I-I had no idea that he was—” he pauses. “I'm gonna go too. I need to think things over.”

He leaves too, allowing Harry and Niall to process this on their own.

 

“I can't believe Zayn did that. Drunk or not, it's not an excuse.”

Niall sighs, running his hands through his hair. “Poor Liam. Losing two people to this soulmate crap.”

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “It's not crap.”

“If I hadn't met you, I'd still be with Liam, enjoying the good old days without worry,” Niall bites, not thinking about his words as they vomit out.

Harry stares at him, definitely hurt. “What?”

“Shit.”

“What are you talking about, Niall?”

Niall backs against the door, looking every which way that isn't Harry. “That's not… Harry… I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you like that. I didn't mean it.”

“You and Liam got in a fight because of-of me?” Harry dissects this. “What's so wrong with me that I'm the reason? What did I even do?”

“Nothing. You did nothing. Please don't think that.” Niall pleas. “You're my friend, too. Liam doesn't agree that I should be around you because—” he can't tell him. It's too complicated and Harry wouldn’t understand. “I-I'm gonna go too. This was a bad idea. Living here.”

Harry frowns sullenly. “Niall. Stay.”

“I can't. I'm too much of a hassle. People always leave because of me.” He states. It's breaking him because staying here hasn't been all that bad.

In fact, he's enjoyed getting closer to Harry. Loves the way they can joke all night, never paying mind to the time. Loves the sound of Harry's laugh, and he knows he's going to miss his stupid jokes, laughing only because he doesn't want Harry to feel bad.

“I'll be gone by tonight. Don't worry about me,” he adds, quickly heading to his room. He locks it before Harry can run after him.

“Niall!” He calls desperately. “Please talk to me about this! I can't lose you too!”

 _I'm sorry Harry. It's for the best_. Niall thinks, his back against the door.

 

*

 

It's midnight when Niall grabs his things to leave. All he needs is his guitar and he's good to go. Harry's door is shut, and Niall’s certain he's asleep from the silence of the apartment.

He searches the living room for his guitar, but it's nowhere to be found. “Weird. I thought I put it here.” Niall murmurs. He scratches his head, thinking of places he would've placed it.

As he's heading back to the guest room, he hears chords played from his instrument. They're coming from Harry's room.

He listens in.

“Love it's hard I know. All your lights are red but I'm green to go. I used to see you high and now you're only low. All your lights are red but I'm green to go.” It's Harry singing and Niall's instantly recognizing the song.

It's his, but he doesn't recall Harry ever hearing this one before. There's no way. Not when it's been a secret for two weeks since it’s been written. Niall would always make sure Harry wasn't home to hear it. If he did then…

Then he'd know more than Niall is willing to share.

“I want you, I'll colour me blue. Anything it takes to make you stay. Only see myself when I'm looking up at you.” He starts the chorus. His voice is beautiful, painfully, but beautiful nonetheless, and Niall's entranced by him. “I can't say no. Though the lights are on, there's nobody home. Swore I'd never lose control. Then I fell in love with a heart that beats so slow.”

Niall grimaces, leaning against the door to hear him better. It's terrifyingly heart wrenching. Listening to his owns words from the voice of the man who's changed his life in a way he couldn't ever imagine. He hates how his own feelings are echoed a thousand times more from Harry, as if these words ring truer to him than they ever could for Niall.

“I know you're seeing black and white. So I'll paint you a clear blue sky. Without you I am colourblind. It's raining everytime I open my eyes. I want you. I'll colour me blue. Anything it takes to makes you stay. Only see myself when I'm looking up at you.”

As Harry finishes out the song, Niall slowly opens the door, peering in to see the tears roll down his face. “Niall. Don't go,” he whispers, hugging the guitar like its his only leash to this world. Has Harry always felt this way? Has he always had stronger feelings than he ever let on?

Niall's heart races as he cautiously approaches him. He reaches for him, swallowing his fear before pulling Harry into a hug.

“I'll stay.”

 

*

 

Niall wakes the next morning to the sound of his phone going off with multiple text messages. Groaning, he rolls onto his stomach, reaching for the device, plucking it from the nightstand.

Liam: hey

Liam: are you awake?

Liam: I really need to talk to you

Liam: Niall, answer the phone you ass

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Niall grunts a low laugh.

Niall: yeah. I'm up.

Liam: meet me at the coffee shop on Coombe at 9?

Niall: it's 8:30. Why do I have to go ?

Liam: please? I really want to talk to you about yesterday.

Niall sighs.

Niall: fine. See you at 9

He throws his phone on the bed, rubbing at his eyes again. Unwelcome flashes of last night invade his brain. He remembers the way Harry held onto him like he was about to fly away if he even thought about letting go. He isn't sure what made him stay, but it's better than being in a shoddy motel for the night, he supposes.  

Harry isn't up when Niall's getting ready, so he leaves him a note on the whiteboard attached to the fridge before heading out.

The drive isn't too bad, maybe a ten minute drive, tops, so Niall makes perfect timing as he pulls into a lucky empty spot in front of the coffee house. He hates parallel parking, but when you live in London, you have to get used to that kind of thing. He misses being home in Ireland sometimes.

Then he thinks of his parents and the way they kicked him out. Yeah, not such a welcoming memory.

Liam's seated at a table in the lounge, cup of coffee in hand as he's reading the morning paper. Niall orders a caramel macchiato from the barista before settling in the chair across from Liam. He hoists his legs up on the seat adjacent to him, peering speculatively at his friend—if they even are that anymore.

Finally setting the newspaper down on the table, Liam looks to Niall.

“I thought only old people read that thing anymore.”

“I'm not awake enough for your wisecracks.”

“I'm not awake enough to see you, but here I am.” Niall remarks.

With a petulant sigh, Liam begins, hands linked across the table like a CEO about to start his daily meeting. “About Zayn, I really didn't know—”

Niall raises his hand to stop him. “Not my business to be honest. I like Zayn. He's always had my back, but his boyfriend, Louis, is a whole other story. Whatever happens between them is their deal.”

“But Niall, I'm not that kind of person.”

“I know. I'm not upset with you for hooking up with Zayn. I'm just not sure I want to be there when Louis finds out.”

“What's the deal with that? Aren't soulmates supposed to be super faithful or something?”

Niall shrugs, sipping from his coffee. “Your guess is as good as mine, mate.”

“You seem to be pretty faithful to—Harry's his name, right?” He asks, hiding behind his own cup.

“We're _friends_ , Liam. Sue me for being friends with someone.”

Liam scoffs, “He's not just anyone. He's your _soulmate_. That's different.”

“Is it really? Last I checked, there are no rules that dictate that I have to marry Harry.”

“The universe dictates it. I may hate colour, but I'm not a stranger to how things work.”

Niall groans, leaning further back in his chair. “Is this what I came here for? To listen to you lecture me on my life?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want from me, Liam?”

“I'm sorry, okay?” Liam finally confesses. “I'm the biggest sore loser, and I let it get the best of me. I don't want to lose you as a friend because I decided to fall in love with you.”

“You can't decide these things, Liam. You and I both know that.”

“Isn't that the cold truth?”

Silence drapes over them like a warm blanket. It's the kind of understanding quiet that forms stronger connections and Niall's beginning to feel like their little feud is _finally_ at peace.

“So how did you and Zayn…?”

“Kind of a funny story actually. I was at Maggie's pub, mulling over you, on my third shot of tequila when Zayn bursts drunkenly out of the bathroom door. He sat next to me and started talking about how colour is the bane of his existence and we got to know each other a bit better.”

“Oh?”

“Zayn's a cool guy. Super level headed. Nothing seems to really faze him.”

Niall laughs. “Yep, definitely sounds like him.”

“One thing led to another and we… You know.”

“Save the details, please. I don't need to know about Zayn's naughty parts.” He jokes, grinning. “I don't approve, because it's home wrecker status, but I'm not judging you for having a one night stand.”

Liam sinks into his chair. “It was more of a three night fling,” he admits cheekily.

“Three nights?” Niall gasps. “ _Now_ I know too much.”

Liam presses his palms together. “Please don't say anything.”

“Oh, don't worry. I _really_ do not want to be in the line of fire when Louis finds out.”

“Here's an idea. What if he doesn't?”

“Liam!” Niall exclaims.

“Okay, okay. I just don't want Zayn to get into trouble.”

“He's a big boy. I'm sure he'll figure out a way to fix things if he really wants to make things work with Louis.”

 

*

 

“How'd it go?” Harry asks when Niall gets home. He sets his keys in Harry's key bowl and smiles.

“Pretty good. Think Liam and I will be all right.”

Harry signs with relief. “Good. I'm glad to see that you aren't blue anymore.”

“Colour wise or emotionally?”

“Both?” Harry offers, smiling awkwardly. The apartment’s a mess again, covered in Harry’s manuscript. He’s not even trying to hide it anymore. Whatever he's working on has at least five hundred pages. How Harry can write content that goes for that long, is beyond Niall.

Niall opens the fridge to grab an apple, biting into it without a second thought, kicking the door closed. Harry’s digging his big toe into the floorboards, nervously biting his lip. Okay, he’s acting weird now. “What’s up?” Niall asks uncertainly.

“Umm… About last night.”

“What about it?” Niall feels his stomach preparing to drop, itching at the tip of his diaphragm.

“Do you maybe want to try?”

“Harry. You have to be more upfront with me. I don’t understand subtlety.” He takes his second bite, chews, then leaves the fruit between his teeth as he grabs a glass from the cabinet. Niall fills the glass with water, waiting for Harry’s clearer question.

Harry sighs, looking away, hand combing through wavy tresses. “Niall, I…” He turns to him, swallowing. “I like you, and I really want to try dating.”

Niall stares at him, a deer in the headlights. The apple falls from his mouth. The innocence of his question isn’t even the problem. Niall just doesn’t know how to answer. Harry picks the fallen fruit up, setting it on the counter.

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Harry smiles halfheartedly, scratching the back of his head. “I kind of just thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Harry, I…” Niall ponders it. He likes Harry just fine, but the amount of _how much_ he likes him is the question. “Can I think about it?”

He scans Niall, body tensing then relaxing as Harry gives in. “Yeah. That's fair.”

Niall isn't sure what to say. The air is stagnant, awkwardly forming a quiet barrier between them. So they part ways, heading to their own respective rooms.

 

*

 

It's Friday night and Niall's got twenty minutes till his set. He's been thinking about Harry's question for the past two days, and he's got nothing to give an answer to. The prospect of dating his roommate is heavy enough without the added detail that he's his soulmate. Does he even like Harry like that? Sure he respects him. He cares about him. But does that give him enough grounds to date him?

Thinking about this is aggravating, and he downs his pint like it's water, smacking the glass on the polished wood bar top.

“Oi. Respect, Niall.” Maddie reminds him, running her towel over the spot his glass bruised.

He sits back in his chair, sulking. “Sorry, Maddie. Got a lot on my mind.”

“They say bartenders are unlicensed therapists. We also don't get paid enough but, we're good at it apparently,” she smirks.

Niall loves the way she can easily break the ice. “You know Harry?”

“Quite. Lovely lad, he is. Tells the dumbest jokes, but it helps me get through the long nights sometimes.” Niall likes the way she describes people. Always focusing on the positive things. “What about him?”

“He's my soulmate.”

The detail doesn't even register shock on her face. It's like she saw it from a mile away. “I see. And how does that make you feel?”

Niall tosses a popcorn at her, chuckling. “Screw your cliché psychotherapist questions.”

Maddie laughs. It rings in his ears like the soft breeze in spring. “Okay. In all seriousness, I figured there was a deeper connection there than just friends. Has he changed your view on colour?”

“Not at all. But that's probably my issue.”

“How so? I didn't think you'd change so easily, but I'm sort of surprised he hasn't changed your world at all.”

Niall shrugs. “Seeing colour is sort of an inconvenience. I liked it when everything was black and white. You didn't have to worry about all the shades in between, and now I see more of the world than I really want to.”

“And this is your issue?”

“Mhm. The universe says things are a certain way, right?” Niall gestures, holding his palms inches from each other. “That's easier to accept when you don't have the whole picture. Now that I see everything, I'm stuck.” He holds his arms out, wide, grunting. “I don't know how I feel about him. I like Harry as a person. He's kind, honest, innocently naïve at times, and all around, he's a good guy to have in my life.”

“But.” Maddie adds.

“But now I'm faced with whether I want to go further with him than just friends.”

Maddie crosses her arms, thinking. “Did I ever tell you how I met my soulmate?”

“No.”

She smiles fondly. “He was an awkward lad. He had a part time job selling newspapers. This was back in the nineties when people still used them for their main news. I remember it like it was yesterday,” Maddie begins. Niall's grinning. This is a side of her he's never seen and somehow it's refreshing. “It was a blistering cold day and the wind was racing through my hair. I was on my way to work when I spotted him. He was holding the newspaper with both hands extended out, trying to catch someone's eye. Then the wind caught hold of the paper, smacking it right into his face. He was so clumsy that he couldn't find the edges of it to peel it off. So I ran over to him.”

“Ooh.” Niall chimes.

Maddie smirks. “I asked if he was all right. If he'd like some help. But he was stubborn, said he'd get it off himself. Try as hard as he could, he just couldn't get the damned thing off. I don't think I've ever laughed so much. Eventually I helped him pull it off, and the moment our eyes met, we just knew it had to be us. I was timid at first. Knew the consequences of even touching another without their permission. Back then, no one went around just touching one another to see if they'd come across their one. We had a little more respect than that, but I digress.” Maddie laughs. “The moment I reached out to him, a beautiful flurry of colour rushed through the air. And that was it. I didn't know I Ioved him till later, of course, but I wasn't scared to be with him.”

“That's lovely, Maddie.”

“Take it from someone who will never get a second chance. Deciding on those small leaps of faith will travel you to places you have never known.” She states, tapping on the bar. “Now I've said my peace. Go do your job.”

Niall looks to her curiously. She gestures her head to the stage. “Oh.” He gets up from his perch, turning towards the stage. “Thanks, Maddie, for the pep talk.”

“Don't mention it. Now go and entertain my customers, slacker.”

 

*

 

Niall quietly slips into Harry's room when he gets home. It's late, probably closer to four in the morning, but Niall's drunkenness has all but faded from the long walk home. Harry's snuggled into his pillow, his soft casted arm resting to the side of him. It comes off in two weeks, and Harry's excited to get rid of the damn thing. He says that he's tired of covering it just to take a shower.

Because of that, Niall doesn't let Harry do the dishes.

He gives a small chuckle when he hears Harry's soft snores. It's sweet, like the light purr of a cat. Niall feels almost guilty for wanting to wake him up.

“Harry,” he whispers, gently placing his hand on his shoulder. “Harry wake up.”

“Hmm?” Harry hums, slowly pulling out of his deep sleep.

“C'mon. I want to show you something.”

“Niall?”

“Yes, Harry?”

His eyes open, staring kindly up at Niall. Harry smiles. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Harry. Now hurry, or we're gonna miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“You'll see.”

Harry languidly gets out of bed, sliding his big feet into his slippers as he shuffles behind Niall to the roof of their apartment building. Feeling the effects of sleep wearing off, Harry recognizes the rectangular shape of his living room blanket placed carefully on the roof’s ground. “Niall, is this—”

“Don't think about it, just sit with me?”

Harry silently nods, sitting next to Niall.

 

**

 

They sit in silence for a while, just watching the eastern horizon slowly glow to life. Harry's finally awake, coherent enough to realize that Niall's invited him up here to share something Harry's certain he'll love.

“When I first started seeing colour, the only thing I really grew to love about it was the way the hues of the morning sky lifted into the air. The mixtures of gold and purple that turned into what we normally see during the day always have me captivated. I really wanted to show you this.”

Harry's already seen the morning sunrise. Harry's already fallen in love with it, but somehow this is different. Being here with Niall, with the guy he's fallen so hard for, watching the sun light up the world, is more beautiful than Harry could ever recall.

“Isn't it so peaceful?” Niall asks, the slight breeze of the morning air picking up. Harry stares only at him, observes the way the golden rays of sunlight reflect off of his face like the glow of dew on a grassy plain. He doesn't think he's ever seen someone so serene, so at home with themselves like the way Niall is.

If Harry could wake up to this sight, every morning for an eternity, he would give anything to have that.

“Yeah, you are.”

Niall glances up to him, shock written all over his face. Harry grins, admiring the golden hues of yellow in his blue irises, how it reminds him of the sun in the middle of a painted blue sky.

“Harry…” He trails, looking down at their hands palmed facedown against the blanket. Niall lifts Harry's hand into his, giving him a small smile. “I think I'm willing to try this with you.”

Harry's stomach drops. “Are you certain?”

“Yeah. Everything starts with a sunrise, but it’s what we do before it sets that matters.”

He rests his head on Harry's shoulder, sighing softly as he stares at the sunrise again. 

Yeah, Harry could definitely get used to this.

 

**

 

Niall doesn't remember going to bed, but waking up in the comfort of it is lovely. Looking at the time on his phone, he curses the lateness of the afternoon. He can't believe he slept in till three, wasting the day away. Sitting up in bed, he yawns, stretching out the sleepiness.

He hears voices in the living room.

Yawning again, Niall gets to his feet, heading out to the kitchen to get a cup of orange juice. On his way, he completely forgets that Louis is the only one that doesn't know he's been living here for the past month.

“What the hell?” Louis hisses, looking between Harry and Niall. “Are you two shacking up now?”

“No!” Harry gasps, blushing. “Nothing like that. Niall just needed a place to stay.”

Louis watches Niall like a hawk, marking every step he takes. “For how long?”

“For a—“

Louis raises a finger to silence Harry. “No. I want to hear it from _you_ , twatface.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “A month. Since New Years.” He pulls the orange juice from its perch in the door.

“I knew you were keeping a secret from me. How shitty, Harry.”

“I knew, too,” Zayn says, not looking up from his book.

Louis gapes. “My own boyfriend, too? What other secrets are you three keeping from me?”

The room freezes. Zayn glances up from his book, staring to Harry and Niall pleadingly.

“Nothing, Lou,” Zayn answers.

“Actually,” Harry starts. Zayn’s giving him a warning stare. “Niall and I have decided to give the soulmate thing a chance.”

Niall pauses mid pour. Okay, c'mon. It's been eleven hours since the conversation this morning and now it's being established publicly? He keeps his mouth shut, though. He said he'd try, so he'll let Harry do his thing.

“That's awesome, Hazza,” Zayn congratulates. His face is expressing gratefulness, though. Niall puts the orange juice away, bringing his cup with him as he settles into the spot next to Harry on the couch.

“I still don’t approve.” Louis gripes, folding his arms over his chest. He juts his perky nose up in the air, displeased.

“Well, that's why you aren't Harry's mother,” Niall remarks, drinking from his cup.

“I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, mate,” Niall smirks, not bothering to look Louis’ way. 

Harry sinks in closer to Niall, smiling happily. “So, you've got a gig tonight?”

“Yep.” Niall answers, staring blankly at the TV. Soccer’s on, and usually he'd been all for it, but the awkwardness of the room has him on edge.

Harry presses his shoulder against Niall's. The affection is almost too much for him. “You mind if I come see you?”

“Do what you want, Harry. Some of my friends are coming to see me tonight though, I might not be able to spend a lot of time with you.”

Louis scoffs. “Are you sure you're really dating now?”

“Louis.”

“No Zayn. I'm not going to sit here and listen to Niall be an ass to my best friend.”

“Go home if you don't like it then,” Niall comments, finishing up the rest of his juice. “Doesn't matter to me what you do. I'll be in my room rehearsing, see you later, Harry,” he regards, setting his cup in the sink before heading silently to his room.

 

*

 

Niall finds Liam and Matty perched against the bar, chatting with a pint in their hands. Maddie slides a cold one Niall's way, and he adjusts his guitar case on his shoulder before reaching for it. “Thanks,” he greets, joining his friends.

“Where's your friend?” Matty asks, eyes darting around for any sight of Harry.

Niall rolls his eyes. “He'll probably be here later. Thanks for coming guys.”

“Always a fan of you,” Liam compliments, clinking his glass with Niall's.

Maddie approaches them after a while, tapping Niall's hand for his attention. “Were you able to figure out what you wanted to do?”

“I'd rather bleed out for ten minutes than talk about my feelings.” He growls and Maddie grimaces offended.

“ _Excuse_ your attitude.”

Realizing who he's talking to, Niall snaps out of it. “I'm so sorry,” he sighs. “I'm on edge today. I don't know who's my friend or foe.”

Maddie clicks her tongue. “You better figure it out before I smack you.”

“You got it.” Niall replies, heading outside for some fresh air before his set.

 

As the night drags on, and Niall's downing beer after beer, waiting for the moment Harry walks through those doors. It never happens. He isn't sure why he's disappointed. If anything, he figured he was hoping Harry wouldn't show up and now that he hasn't…

Niall can't help but be concerned. He pulls his phone out, calling Harry only to be directed to voicemail. “What the hell?” He curses, staring at the end call screen before flitting his thumbs across the keyboard, quickly sending a “where are you?” text.

Liam and Matty surround Niall, placing a hand on each of his shoulders.

“Great gig as usual.” Matty states. “Got a bird’s number just by saying I know you.”

“Nice!” Liam cheers, high-fiving his friend.

Niall's just staring at his phone, waiting for Harry to reply, but none comes.

“He didn't show up?” Liam asks. “I thought he'd be attached to your hip by now.” He adds with a scoff. Niall thought so too.

“Something's not right,” Niall murmurs. He finally looks to his friends. “I'm sorry, mates, I've gotta go.”

He ignores their heckling as he races out the door.

 

*

 

“Harry! Harry where are you?!” Niall calls when he gets home. His laptop is open on the coffee table, the cup of tea next to it has gone cold, but Harry's nowhere in sight. Niall frantically searches the rooms, only to find nothing.

He calls his phone again, and he hears it ringing in his bedroom. Niall picks up the offending device, angrily tossing it back onto the bed. What the hell is going on? He would never leave home without it.

There's been no sign that he's hurt, Niall knows that, but the feeling of uncertainty has him on edge. He _could_ get hurt and this time, Niall wants to prevent it. Prevent that horrific feeling of _knowing_ from happening.

Niall rushes out into the hallway of the second floor. He thinks to maybe ask Louis and Zayn. He could be over there, but Niall's hardly seen Harry visit them while he's been here. It's still a lead, and he's reaching to knock on their door when he hears his voice.

“Hey, Niall. Home so soon?”

Turning, Harry's standing in the corridor, his tall presence almost touching the ceiling. He's got an ice pop in his mouth, pulling it out with a loud _pop!_ And Niall finally _breathes_.

“You forgot your phone.”

Harry checks his back pocket of dark jeans that look painted on. His face is annoyingly innocent and Niall wants to smack him. How dare he worry him like that? “Oh. Knew I was missing something.”

“You didn't show up.”

Harry shrugs, looking nonchalantly to Niall like he can't even see the fear in his eyes. “I figured you needed some space to have fun with your friends. It also gave me more time to work on my manuscript.”

Niall walks over to Harry, stares up at him for a languid moment, and throws his arms around his waist. “You had me so freaked out.”

Harry lets his casted arm drape around Niall's back, and lets out a soft chuckle. “I was only gone twenty minutes, Niall.” He glares up at him. “ _Okay_. I'm sorry, I'll make sure I have my phone with me next time.”

Niall pulls away, face hot as he sinks back into the apartment. He isn't sure what came over him, but at least he can sleep soundly tonight. Harry follows him inside.

“I'm really sorry, Niall. I didn't think you'd be worried if I didn't show up.”

“When you experience what it's like to know when someone gets hurt, then you'll understand.”

Harry frowns. “Do you only care about me because you know when I'll get hurt?”

Niall doesn't answer.

“Got it. So this whole trying thing is one sided, isn't it?”

“No.”

“Niall, look at me.” Harry commands, his voice is sharp, daring. It takes him a moment, but he does. He can't look him in the eye, but he knows Harry's waiting for a response. Niall gives him nothing. “Kiss me.”

“What?” Niall finally meets Harry's stare. His green eyes are piercingly frightening.

“If you're serious about trying with me, kiss me, Niall.” Harry demands. His voice is softer now, barely much of a demand than a light request.

Niall gulps. This is not how things should go. This is too soon. Too fast.

Too much for him to handle.

He backs away from Harry. “Harry, I don't—”

“I love you, Niall. I've loved you for a while.” Harry confesses. “You might think it's because of the soulmate thing, but it isn't. I promise.”

“Harry…”

“Let me finish, please,” Harry begs. “You're an ass. A complete jerk most of the time and sometimes you get under my skin like you do with Louis, but I don't care because under that asshole façade, there's a kind person. You care more than you should, you do more for people than you should, and you made me feel things I've never felt before. It made me so happy to hear you say you wanted to try. It gave me hope that this can work. And it will, if you'll only meet me halfway.”

Niall doesn't know how to respond.

It's overwhelming.

He wishes he'd stayed at the bar instead of worrying over nothing.

“Say something, please?” Harry whispers after a while. “Anything would hurt less than the quiet.”

Niall only looks to him, wordless. How could Harry expect him to be able to say anything to his confession? He thinks he might've rushed in too soon, promoting expectations that he can't fulfill.

Niall feels like an ass.

“I need to go to bed. I'm sorry, Harry.”

He turns to go, leaving Harry to his own devices.

 

*

 

Niall calls his brother in the morning. Tells him what's going on, asking for help.

He gets off the phone, feeling worse than before, but he knows it's for the better.

 

*

 

Days pass without an exchange with Harry. Niall isn't sure who's avoiding whom at this point. They no longer eat breakfast together. No more peaceful guitar sessions. No more playful discussions. No more jokes until the crack of dawn.

No more watching the sun rise peacefully over the bustling city.

It feels wrong to still be here, but Harry hasn't kicked him out.

He hasn't even shared a glance with Niall for more than a split second.

 

 _Maybe I_ should _leave_. Niall thinks.

 

*

 

Niall's getting ready for his Friday night gig when Harry finally speaks up. He's leaning against the bathroom door, watching Niall pull his hair up and back in a perfectly placed quaff. Glancing to him, Harry's clothed handsomely, wearing a loose fitted dress shirt; its patterned with flowers, buttoned up to the third button, paired with his tight fitting black jeans. It shows a bit of his butterfly tattoo that Niall rarely sees, but somehow it's not too revealing on him. Harry's got his scarf and coat in hand, looking like he's ready to leave.

“You leaving?” Niall inquires.

“Yeah. Going out with Louis and Zayn. Have fun tonight. Break a leg.” He smiles half-heartedly.

“Isn't that for acting?”

“It's the thought that counts, right?” Harry asks.

Niall smirks. “Thank you then. Get home safe, yeah?”

“Promise.”

Harry disappears then, leaving Niall to himself again. Their small interaction has him aching for their friendship.

He thinks he might be depressed.

 

*

 

Niall gets home half past one, drunker than usual. His audience was bigger than usual, calling for an encore. It's exciting and he thinks he might want to make a demo cd.

Niall's buried in the pantry, fishing for something to snack on when Harry stumbles through the door, leaning against the wall for balance. He giggles, snorting as he fumbles through the short length between his door and the living room couch.

Niall watches, a pretzel poised in his mouth, as Harry flops on the couch face first. He groans.

Walking over to him, Niall places a couple pretzels in Harry's palm, observing as his hand disappears under the pressure of his head and then there's the chomp chomping of his unexpected gift.

“Thanks,” Harry murmurs against the couch cushion.

“You gonna stay here all night?”

“Probably. Too drunk to get up.”

Niall laughs, turning Harry over to his back. At least, it's an attempt to. In the midst of moving him, Harry grasps Niall's wrist, pulling him down into his embrace.

“Harry?”

“Shh, just let me hold you. It's keeping me down to earth right now.” Harry moans, his fingers tracing over the small of Niall's back. “I feel like I could drift off if I let you go.”

Niall snorts. “You and me both, love.”

“Love.” Harry mouths, tasting the word. “Love is love. Love is beautiful. Love is life.”

“You're drunk.”

“I am,” Harry gasps. “I am so drunk. You are too. I can smell the rum on your breath.”

“That bad?” Niall asks, exhaling onto his palm. “It _is._ I smell like a brewery.”

“Mhm,” Harry hums into the side of the couch, pulling Niall closer. “Niall?”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me?”

Niall stills, cautiously glancing up to Harry. He feels so small compared to Harry, and he hates it. Hates how beautiful this stupid giant is.

Hates how he can't find the courage to love him back.

“I want to,” Niall murmurs, rubbing his numb nose.

“Then do it.”

“Okay.”

Harry gives Niall enough flack to move closer to him. He rubs the tip of his nose against Harry's, tucking a loose strand of his hair to the side. There's a small scar on his cheek from the accident, a detail Niall never realized he missed. He brushes his lips over the small impression, embracing the small flaw on Harry's otherwise handsome face.

He eyes a small mole to the right of Harry's lips, another detail Niall never took notice of. It's crazy how he sees the small things now when they're so close. Niall thinks he might explode, but when he presses his wanting lips to Harry's, it's like a whole new universe has encased them protectively. It's just them in this new place, no heckling from friends, no words needed to be exchanged.

Just them and the electricity that sparks between them.

Harry holds Niall closer, lips tasting like sweet martinis and stale pretzels, and Niall craves more. He breathes Harry in, the scent of his musky cologne overwhelming him. His lips are the oxygen he needs to survive and Niall doesn't know how he ever lived without them.

Maybe the soulmate bullshit isn't really bullshit.

“Sleep with me?” Harry asks, gasping as he pulls away from Niall's touch.

“Okay.”

It's too good to be real.

 

**

 

Harry stretches awake, squinting from the sun peeking through the crack between his dark curtains. Groaning to life, Harry glances around the quiet room. He's alone, but he's sure he and Niall fell asleep here last night.

He smirks, recalling the ghost of Niall's lips on his. It's like a dream, one that he never wanted to wake up from.

Getting to his feet, Harry heads to the fridge, grabbing the orange juice from the door. He drinks from the carton, noticing that it's not as full as yesterday. Niall probably had a glass when he woke up. It's his go to in the morning.

Especially from a night of drinking.

Returning the juice to its place, Harry moves around the still apartment. It's oddly warm in here, the unusual winter sun warming its way through the windows. He feels comfortable.

He meanders to his bedroom, changing out of his night attire and into a more cozy set of blue striped pajama bottoms and his favourite grey shirt.

Harry glances to his alarm clock, shaking his head at the time. “Can't believe I slept until one. No wonder Niall's already awake.”

Speaking of.

Where _is_ Niall?

Harry wanders across the hall, lightly tapping on Niall's door. “Hey, are you awake?”

When he doesn't get an answer, Harry peeps inside. “Sorry for the intrusion.” He whispers, expecting to see him in bed or at the desk working on a song.

The absence of Niall makes Harry's hair stand up.

Did he leave a note?

Harry didn't see one on the whiteboard. Even when they weren't talking, Niall would still leave notes saying he'd be home later.

He searches the apartment. It's void of anything that belongs to Niall. His duffle bag is gone as well as his guitar case.

Then it finally hits him.

He really wished he hadn't woke up.

Niall's gone.

This is a living nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos or comments are appreciated.  
> my tumblr is kissperingniall.tumblr.com if you want to follow me
> 
> The song Harry sings is Blue by Troye Sivan. All credits go to him for this wonderful piece of music. You can have a listen if you haven't heard it yet, here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DT5jp0kpr9A
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my teacher, Sarah, and Suz. You can thank Sarah for the ending to this one.  
> All the life ruining feelings is what she's responsible for.
> 
> Also! There's been talk between her and I about possibly turning this into a full fledged novel. Non-1D of course, but how wonderful?!


	5. LOST BOY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Niall, I swear to the fucking heavens, if you don't get your ass back to Harry's apartment, I'll kill you. I will find you and end you for causing Harry to feel so hurt. How dare you play with his feelings like this? How dare you go and almost die and not even call Harry back like you said you would?” There's a moment of silence on Louis’ end before he finishes his thought. “If you don't get here within a week, I will call you every day until you do.”
> 
> The voicemail ends there and Niall finds himself actually laughing at it. It's so like Louis to intervene like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're already here! Chapter 5 and things are starting to get good :)
> 
> This chapter is 28 pages long. I thought about splitting it into parts, but I don't think I'll be that evil ;)
> 
> ***Some trigger warnings for: depression, thoughts of suicide, and alcoholism

LOST BOY

 

Breathing in the morning air of the Pacific Ocean is unusual for Niall. He's been here for almost a month, spending time with his brother Greg and his family. Theo, Niall's nephew, is three, going on four this July. He can't believe how long it's been since he's been around the little guy. Last time he saw him, Theo was in diapers and now he's getting potty trained and is talking miles a second.

While the escape was very random, not to mention very shitty in the terms of how things went, it's been very much needed. Harry's called him dozens of times, but those attempts slowly trickled down to a null as the weeks flew by. All of his calls have gone unanswered.

Niall wouldn't even know what to say if he did answer his phone.

The dreams returned the first night he got here. Niall's grateful that he doesn't have to see much green thanks to the blue scenery of the California coast. The sunrises are prettier here.

Sometimes he thinks about showing Harry, but then he remembers.

He left.

Niall left Harry, not even leaving behind a note of explanation.

Just called Greg up and asked for a flight to the States.

Some days Niall regrets it. Then the dreams happen and he’s glad he’s not there anymore. A constant reminder of what he so desperately needs to be away from.

Liam calls Niall up, his deep voice music to his ears. “Yo! You enjoying California? Is it cold there? How’s the beach? Meet anyone interesting? How are you?”

“Wow, that’s a lot to unload on me Liam. I’m gonna have to call you back with my list of answers.”

“Shut up,” Liam laughs, echoing Niall’s own hysterics. “No really, how are you?”

“Pretty good. Just walking along the shoreline. The water’s a bit cold, but I’m sure I won’t get hypothermia or anything,” he smiles, kicking the wet sand up between his toes. “How’s the east side?”

“Well,” Liam starts. “Things are pretty boring without you, if I’m honest. Been thinking bout flying out to see you.”

“I’d be glad to have you, mate. Hard to find friendly people in Los Angeles.”

Liam snorts. “I’m sure Americans aren’t that bad.”

“They aren’t. But the soulmate craze? Way worse over here. Seriously. What’s wrong with people?” He isn't even joking. He hates watching TV and every commercial is some ad merchandising perfumes that attract you to your soulmate, or some sort of medication that will help you in the bedroom, because God forbid you can't get it up when you're trying to screw your soulmate. Niall rolls his eyes at the thought.

“Gross. Don’t they have some kind of forum for colour haters like us to make pen pals?”

Niall shakes his head, grinning cheekily. “No thanks. I’ve heard stories about meeting people online and I don’t think I’m up for that kind of environment.”

There’s a few moments of silence on both ends. Niall kind of likes it; almost like he’s in the same room as Liam. “The ocean sounds peaceful. What time is it?”

“Five in the morning. Sun’s just coming up.”

“It’s one here. I’d make a drive out to the Atlantic, but I’m sure the Pacific is prettier.”

“Cold though.”

There’s another voice on Liam’s end calling for him. “Who are you with?” Niall inquires.

“You aren’t going to believe this.”

“What?”

“I met a girl.”

Niall feigns a gasp. “No.”

“She’s beautiful. Her name’s Sophia.”

“Has she tried the soulmate test yet?”

Liam chuckles. “Not at all. It’s refreshing. We actually met because of Zayn. They were chatting at Maddie’s pub two weeks ago. When he learned that Sophia’s not particular to colour either, he called me up. Said she’d be perfect for me. Welp. Here we are. Going on our third date.” He sounds like a kid in a candy store.

“I’m so happy for you. Oh,” he adds. “How’s Maddie doing? I didn’t exactly give her a heads up.”

“She’s mad at you. At least, she was. Now she’s just irritated because you left Harry here and now he won’t go home till after closing hours.”

“What?” Niall stops. The wind whips through his hair, almost blinding him.

Liam goes quiet.

“Liam? You there?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry.”

Niall sighs, running his fingers through his sea salt textured hair. The ocean has really thickened his hair up and he’s still unsure if he cares for it. “I didn’t figure Harry would be all right.”

“Are _you_ all right, though?”

“I’m…” he pauses. “Fine.”

“Well, when you decide to be honest with yourself, let me know. I’ve gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, love you man.”

“Love you too.” The line goes dead, and Niall’s hand flops to his side. He looks up to the gold and purple sky, frowning.

Niall really thinks he might be depressed.

“Shit! No Sasha! Heel! Fuck! Fucking heel!” is the string of curse words Niall hears before he finds himself flat on his back, head pounding.

He groans, staring up at the sky again, seeing stars. “What the fuck?” Niall murmurs, slowly getting up and eyeing the back end of the chocolate Labrador that laid him out on the ground like her play toy. The dog looks to Niall and then up to her owner, barking playfully.

“Sasha! You’re such a brat.”

Sasha’s owner is a pretty brunette with eyes as blue as the depths of the ocean. Her long hair sweeps across her shoulders freely, almost hiding her face as she bends down to leash her dog. “So sorry about that, Sasha is kind of wild.” The girl helps him up from the sand, brushing particles of it out of his messy hair. “I'm Barbara.” She extends her hand kindly.

Niall shakes it, smiling. “Niall. She scared me half to death. I thought I was a goner.” He laughs, looking to the panting pup. Sasha looks like she's smiling. Niall's really a sucker for dogs. It's not fair.

“I really am sorry. She doesn't normally knock strangers down. She probably saw you and instantly decided she had a crush on you,” Barbara jokes, petting Sasha's head fondly.

“She's beautiful. How old?”

“Ten months. Training her has been a bitch. She definitely keeps me on my toes.”

“I bet.” Niall looks at the time on his watch. “I really need to go, but it was nice meeting you, Barbara.” He looks to the dog. “You too Sasha. Let's run into each other again, yeah?” He grins, petting her playfully before he sprints off.

At least he finally met someone fairly normal here.

 

*

 

“It's nice to see you coming around, Niall,” Greg comments at breakfast. Denise brings a new pot of coffee to the table before settling in next to Theo. Niall pours himself his second cup, stirring two sugars in.

“What do you mean?”

“When you first got here, you looked like hell. Now it seems like the colour has returned to your face. Have you finally talked things over with Harry?”

“Greg,” Denise groans, giving him a look.

Greg holds his hands up in surrender. “I'm just curious.”

Niall takes an angry stab at a pancake with his fork, shoving a piece into his mouth. “I haven't talked to Harry. I think it's best I stay away.”

“Don't talk with your mouth full.” Greg nags. “What happens if he gets hurt again?”

Niall swallows his food, gritting his teeth. The very thought of experiencing the pain of Harry getting injured has been haunting him since he left. Now that he can't keep an eye on him; it's unnerving to say the least. He grips his coffee cup tightly.

“Greg!” Denise growls.

“What?”

“Stop it. Can't you see you're scaring him?”

Greg watches Niall, observes the way his knuckles begin to turn white. He reaches across the table, pressing the tips of his fingers to Niall's hand. It breaks the spell, and he relaxes, eyes fixated on his brother.

“I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I wish this soulmate crap didn't exist. Things would be easier.” Niall bites.

“Would they though?” Greg inquires, buttering his toast. “I don't think I've ever seen you so lost before.”

“I'm not lost,” Niall growls. “I just don't like some all knowing whatever deciding what or who I should do. This is about having free will, Greg. Not everyone sees the world through rose coloured glasses like you.”

Greg grimaces. “Hey, that's not fair.”

“No? You want to talk about fair? Try finding your ‘soulmate’ and learn that you don't feel anything romantic of the sort for them. Try worrying about another person who you didn't know existed until the day you could suddenly see colour. Try seeing the world through my eyes and tell me it's not fair.”

“I wish we could have a normal family breakfast,” Greg replies instead of giving Niall the satisfaction of a real answer.

Niall balls up his napkin and tosses it onto the table, his chair screeching as he gets up quickly. “Excuse me.”

“Niall, you get back here, young man!” Greg calls from the table but Niall ignores him as he races out the door.

 

Niall finds himself at the seaside bar a mile jog from Greg’s house. It's become a bad habit. He drowns himself in alcohol some days, waking up only to wonder how he even got home safely. Greg begs him to slow down, but it only makes him want to drink more.

Ever the rebel, he supposes.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a familiar voice states. Niall turns to his right to see Barbara in her swimwear, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the harsh sunlight. Niall turns to his right to see Barbara in her swimwear; white, round sunglasses shielding her eyes from the harsh sunlight. “Mind if I join you?”

Niall gestures to the seat next to him. “Help yourself,” he smiles.

“Honey Jack on the rocks, please?” She asks the bartender, pushing her sunglasses up the profile of her face.. Niall can never remember his name, but he always knows what he's drinking so he doesn't care.

“Whiskey girl?” Niall remarks.

“The one and only. If anyone tells you otherwise, tell them to go fuck themselves.”

“You’ve got quite the sharp tongue.”

“Is that a problem for you, Trip?” Barbara grins, mouthing the rim of her glass before sipping the sweet liquid.

“Trip?”

“It's what Sasha’s nicknamed you. You know, I don't think I've ever seen someone trip backwards like that. If I didn't know better, I would've taken you for a comedian.”

Niall chuckles. “Nope, just your local smartass.”

“Is that so? Do your cheeks have twenty-twenty vision?”

“More like ten-twenty. It only sees the funny shite half the time.”

Barbara laughs boisterously. Her voice practically sings in his ears. “You really are a smartass. I think we could become good friends, Trip.”

“Likewise.” He clinks his beer with her glass, smirking. “Do you come here often?”

“And now you're giving a pick up line to start a real conversation! Outstanding!” She snorts, then gathers her composure. “Yeah, actually. Danny's training me to be a bartender at night. But during the day, I fight crime with Sasha.” She play punches the air, making fighting sound effects.

“Speaking of,” Niall mentions, looking around for the Labrador. “Where is she?”

“At home with my sister, Anita. It's time for her nap. She gets cranky.”

“With the way she exerted herself this morning, she deserves one.”

“Yep.” Barbara sets her empty glass on the bar, sliding it towards Danny’s vicinity. “So, by the sound of your accent, you’re definitely not from here. Irish?”

“Born and raised. Been living in London for the past three years. Miss Ireland lots though. You’ve got an accent yourself. It’s definitely central European.”

“I’m from Hungary. Anita and I moved here with our parents when we were teenagers. I was going to be a model…” She trails.

“But?”

“But I got into a car accident and got this monster of a scar on my hip,” Barbara answers, pulling the waistband of her shorts down to show the deep remnants of her injury. “I wanted to be a swimsuit model, but no agency will hire me. Not even makeup will cover this nasty guy. I've named him George. He doesn't understand why 9/11 happened either.”

Niall coughs into a laugh. “That's probably the only part of American history I really paid attention to.” Barbara giggles and Niall grimaces sullenly, eyeing her scar. “That’s rough. It’s not even that bad of a scar.” Barbara eyes him strangely. “No really. I think scars are pretty cool. My friend has a scar from a car accident too. It’s right next to the cutest mole I’ve ever seen.”

“Is this a friend, or a _friend_?” She smiles, resting her cheek against her fisted knuckles.

Niall tenses, catching his words. He exhales a nervous laugh. “A friend of sorts.”

Barbara blows a stray hair out of her face. “I know that look. What’s their name?”

“Harry,” Niall answers nonchalantly, then looks to Barbara quickly. “I mean—Shit.”

“Shit is right. You’ve found your soulmate and now you’re in hiding. The freedom must feel so nice, huh?”

“How do you even know this?” Niall questions, the situation growing weirder as the seconds pass.

She smiles. “Isn’t that the great mystery of life? Figuring out the things that make you sit back and think, right? Wanna walk with me along the beach?” Barbara offers, avoiding the question all together. She climbs quickly off her stool, racing towards the beach. Niall’s just met this girl and he isn’t sure if he should be impressed or freaked out.

How does the saying go?

When in Rome?

Niall shrugs, hopping off of the bar stool, running after her.

 

*

 

Barbara’s an enigma. Niall’s spent countless days with her, the memory of her knowing exactly what he’s doing here, haunting him, and he still hasn’t figured her out. She’s cool. Seriously, he doesn’t have a better word to describe her as a whole. Barbara’s intelligent, funny, witty, and Niall likes that she isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind. Her only downfall is being impulsive. She takes off like a rogue plane, never having a direct destination. Something interesting catches her eye and _whoosh!_ she’s gone.

It’s exhaustingly fun.

The time passes quickly enough. By the time Niall finds himself thinking of Harry again, it’s March. Two months since he left England behind.

Harry stopped calling weeks ago.

Niall’s starting to worry about him again. His dreams are proactively welcoming themselves even into his daydreams. Flickers of green pop up here and there every now and then. It’s disorienting. Niall wishes it would stop.

Greg keeps nagging Niall to get his head straight.

Niall continues drinking after their daily fights. It’s a wonder that Greg hasn’t kicked him out.

 

It’s a brisk Tuesday afternoon at the beach. Niall’s got an ice pop in his mouth, staring out at the spring breakers splashing in the water without a care in the world. Barbara’s sitting on the ledge that Niall’s leaning against, kicking her feet to and fro. There’s times when they don’t speak at all, just basking in each other’s presence. Today seems to be one of those days.

Barbara clicks her tongue piercing about her teeth—a bored habit Niall’s come to figure—and she finally speaks up.

“Soon I will be married.”

Niall shifts to look up at her, stunned. “What?”

“Yep. Parents are marrying me off to some rich dude in April. My summer vacation is almost over.” She reiterates matter-of-factly.

“It’s barely spring, Barb,” Niall murmurs. “I don’t see you shifting around in those short shorts from the heat of summer.”

“Always the wisecrack,” she giggles, shaking her wavy hair with her head. “Remember when I said that you were in hiding?”

“Vaguely,” Niall lies.

“I was really talking about me. Turns out I pegged you right on the head, didn’t I?”

Niall shrugs. “It’s possible.”

Barbara sighs, giving a loose laugh. “Either way, my summer vacation is almost over and I want to make the best of my free days.”

“Why do you have to get married off? Isn’t that a little archaic?”

“Parents want me to be like Anita and marry into wealth. It’s not my fault that my soulmate isn’t rich.”

Niall catches onto the depth of her words. This is the first he’s hearing of her soulmate though. “You met them?”

“Have you ever met that one person who was unlike every other person you’ve met before?”

_Oh yeah. He’s one in a million._

“That’s my Jamie. The perfect star in my night sky. But I messed up, bad. Left town like a ghost.” Barbara demonstrates her own version of a vanishing act. It consists of hands waving about in horizontal directions. Niall chuckles lightly at her silly antics.

“Why don’t you just start over with him? He’s your soulmate, right?”

Barbara scoffs, hopping down from the ledge. She kicks the sand idly. “Starting over is different from trying again. You can’t fix what can’t be replaced, you know?”

Niall nods, joining her side casually. “Maybe it’s not always about trying to fix something broken. Maybe it’s about starting over and creating something better.”

Her blue eyes grow like saucers. Barbara trips over herself, laughing. “Trip! What the hell?! Who knew you were deep?!”

“It comes and goes.”

Barbara smacks his arm. “Thanks for the kind words. Maybe you should take your own advice, hmm? Fix that thing with Harry and what not?” She starts to leave, wiggling her fingers in a wave. “Later, dude.”

Watching her go, he thinks about her suggestion.

Would starting over with Harry be the solution to all of his problems?

 

*

 

Niall wakes up in a fog. It's late in the day, he's sure, but he doesn't care. He'd rather lay in bed all day than deal with anything on the outside.

Greg and Denise call him down for lunch.

He can hear the rambunctious three year old racing through the house.

Niall sinks further into his fog.

 

*

 

“Are you going to get out of bed today?” Greg asks, smacking the back of Niall's foot.

He groans.

“Is that a no? What the hell is wrong with you? You're usually up early and doing something by now.” Greg adds. “What about your friend?”

“What about her?” Niall asks monotonously.

“Won't you at least go see her? It's been two days. She keeps asking if you'll come out and play.”

Greg opens the curtains in Niall's room, making him quickly shield his eyes with his hand.

“Niall.”

He ignores him, pulling his blanket over his head.

“How old are we now? Didn't realize teenager Niall was here again.”

“Go away.”

Niall doesn't hear him leave. He goes back to sleep before checking.

 

*

 

When Barbara starts her nightly shifts at the seaside bar, Niall quickly becomes a regular. They talk all night, interrupted by orders from customers, but she always returns to Niall's side, listening to his stories. Sometimes Barbara will talk about her ambitions. How she wants to kidnap Jamie and see the world with him.

“Why don't you run away?”

Barbara purses her lips in thought. “Good question. Maybe it's the money.”

“You could save up working here.”

“Then maybe it's because I don't have a hot air balloon,” she quips.

Niall smirks, staring at her in a drunken haze. “I think that's what planes are for.”

“Hmm… Maybe I don't have a reason to give.”

He watches her. Enjoys seeing the way she interacts with the other customers. Barbara's funny, a bit eccentric, but she has this aura that attracts people like a moth to a flame. Niall's infatuated with her existence.

He doesn't want her to leave.

 

When Niall gets home at half two in the morning, Greg’s waiting for him on the front porch. The light isn't on, so the second his brother stands up, he slides on the sand, attempting to gather his footing.

“Fuck! Don't do that!” Niall curses. “You scared me.”

Greg folds his arms over his chest. “I'm giving you a curfew.”

“What?”

“You heard me. While you're living in my house, you will come home at a reasonable time.” His voice is firm, almost daunting.

Niall scoffs. “You're joking right? I'm twenty-three years old. You can't give me a curfew,” he taunts, stumbling up the stairs to the porch.

“You can't even walk straight. From now on, I don't want you going to the bar.”

Niall smirks. “You think because dad hasn't been around that you're suddenly my father? Go fuck yourself.”

Greg frowns. “I'm disappointed in you.”

“Stuff it. I don't have to listen to this.” Niall shoves past his brother.

“How can I ever get through to you? You're like a rebellious teenager.”

“So what if I am? It's my life, Greg. I'll do whatever I want to.”

“You're destroying your life every second you drink. You're turning into dad.” Greg bites. It's a low blow.

Niall clenches his jaw. “You have no right to say anything about him. You didn't live with dad. You didn't experience what I did.”

“Then you should know better.” Greg points out, heading inside first.

 

*

 

The fog’s getting heavier.

 

*

The hunger is overwhelming. He hates when his stomach rumbles like this. It's too much pain for him to just ignore. Niall would like to stay in bed, but he can't fight it anymore. Hazily, he gets to his feet, smelling his two day old stench. It's rank, but what's the point in showering when he has no one to impress?

Heading downstairs to the kitchen, of course everyone's there. Even Barbara with her sun kissed skin and pretty brown hair. She beams up at him, happy to see that he's still alive.

“I was just about to come and wake you, Trip.”

“I'm up,” he says, moving to grab a banana from the fruit bowl on the table. He starts to peel its skin. “What brings you here?”

“We're going on an adventure today,” she chimes.

He bites the banana languorously. “What kind?” Niall would really rather not.

Barbara shimmies in her chair joyfully. “The kind where memories are created. It'll be fun.”

“Gotta take a shower still,” Niall comments, hoping the wait will deter her away.

“Then you better get on that. The day's wasting away while we talk about it.” She lightly pushes him back towards the stairs.

Well, guess he's not getting out of this one.

 

He heads back downstairs after he's washed. Niall didn't spend much time on his hair. The seaside air will pretty much do the work for him. Barbara's sitting with Greg and Denise still, talking about him.

“He plays the guitar? That's awesome!” When she hears his footsteps, she turns to him, arm around the back of her chair. “Trip, you have to bring your guitar with you. I want to hear a song.”

“Okay.” He gives, moving back to his room to grab it. By the time he rejoins them for the third time, Barbara's got a ring of keys twirling around her finger.

“You ready to get this show on the road?”

“If we must,” Niall answers. Greg pulls him into a side hug.

“I'm happy to see you up and moving. You know you can talk to me if you need to.” He offers.

“Yeah.”

“I promise to have him home before midnight. Don't want to keep you waiting too long for him!” Barbara sings, skipping towards the front door. Niall follows behind languidly, readjusting the strap of his guitar around his shoulder.

 

*

 

“Where are we going?”

Barbara's singing along with the radio, dancing while she's driving. They take the seaside road down, just coasting casually. “Anywhere to do anything we want. I packed snacks just in case we get hungry.”

“Do you have beer?”

She gestures to the ice chest behind them. “Couldn't forget the most important part.”

Niall nods, staring out at the ocean’s horizon.

“Don't tell anyone, but I stole this can from Anita. She'd kill me if she found out.”

Niall eyes widen. “You stole your sister’s van?!”

“More like borrowed?” Barbara shrugs, smiling cheekily. “C'mon it adds to the excitement. We could get pulled over at any moment. Doesn't that excite you?”

“Barb, you committed a felony.”

“Oh hush you. It'll be fine.” She assures.

Niall can't help but be on edge. They pass three cop cars on the way to nowhere. Niall's stomach sinks every time, waiting for their red and blue lights to flash, but they never do.

 

It takes them an hour to get to their unknown destination. Barbara parks the old Volkswagen Bus between a tight space. It's a miracle this crazy girl knows how to parallel park perfectly. She reaches into the backseat, hoisting the heavy ice chest over her shoulder and locks the van.

“Got your guitar?” Barbara asks as Niall shuts his door, locking it behind him.

“Yep,” he pats the case fondly. “Where are we?”

“Wouldn't be an adventure of I told you,” she smirks. “C'mon. We've got a long hike to the bottom.”

Barbara leads him down at least three hundred steps. It's not too bad going down, but Niall's certain he'll have a hell of a time hiking back up it. Barbara's strong, Niall notices. Not once does she struggling carrying the ice chest down the stairs and she's even got a bag full of snacks on her other side.

He chalks it up to her having equilibrium more than anything.

The bottom of the stairs welcome them to an open beach, clear of any debris. Niall's shocked. He doesn't think he's ever seen a cleaner coast with the prettiest of blue waters. The waves roll gently inland, caressing Niall's feet, hoaxing him to dive right in.

Barbara pulls a coveted blanket out of her bag, resting it onto the soft sand. She sets the ice chest onto it to keep the fabric from flying away with the light seaside breeze.

“After a long drive, an ice cold beer sounds about right,” she coos, digging through the chest for her prize. The can fizzles as she cracks it open, the light swig of the liquid draining into her throat.

Niall's parched. He fishes for his own beer, guiding the wanted alcohol to his lips.

“Isn't it gorgeous? The water’s as blue as your eyes,” Barbara remarks.

“The waters not actually blue you ass,” he jokes.

She screeches excitedly. “You're back! Finally, Trip. I thought you'd left the planet for sure.”

Niall smirks. “Just been lost in my own thoughts, I guess.”

“Thinking about Harry?” She inches closer to Niall, waiting for an sign of difference from him.

Niall shies away from her. “No.”

“Don't lie. I can tell he's on your mind. But!” Barbara clicks her tongue. “That's the last I'll talk about the subject. Today's not about that. It's about creating memories.”

“Cuz summer vacation is almost over?”

“Yep,” she smiles. “So let's make the most of the time we've got left.”

“Deal.” Niall retorts, gulping down the last of the can before sitting comfortably on the blanket. “What do you want to do?”

Barbara ponders the thought. She nestles into the blanket, smiling up at him. “Play me a song?”

“I think I can do that,” he answers, pulling the guitar around him and into his lap. He tunes his strings for a moment, adjusting the strap again before strumming a few chords. “Got a request?”

“Hmm… Anything your heart desires, Trip.”

Niall nods, playing the first measure. “This is a new song. I haven't had an audience for quite some time, so don't get upset if it's rough.”

Barbara shakes her head, lying onto her back, listening patiently.

“As the smile fell from your face, I fell with it. Our faces blue. There's a heart shaped stain on the carpet. I left it, I left it with you.” Niall begins. “Yeah, the truth is I'm sorry. Though I told you not to worry. I'm just some dumb kid trying to kid myself that I've got my shit together.

“I say I wanna settle down. Build your hopes up like a tower. I'm giving you the run around, I'm just a lost boy. Not ready to be found. Not ready to be found. I'm just a lost boy, not ready to be found.”

Barbara's captivated when Niall ends his song. “I didn't know you were that good. Wow. I'm speechless.”

Niall smiles bashfully. “You really think so?”

“So much emotion. It's raw and heartbreaking. Now I see why you escaped.”

“Is that right?”

Barbara nods. “Mhm. You really love him, don't you?”

“I wouldn't say that.”

“Then what other word could describe it?”

Niall shrugs, setting his guitar to the side. “Anything but love.”

Barbara scoffs, but she doesn't say anything else on the subject. Niall's grateful.

 

She takes him up to an outlook high off the edge of the ocean. The sun’s beginning to set and Niall breathes it all in. He's content being here, thinks about maybe getting a houseboat and life a peaceful life on the sea. He's used to being alone, so he doesn't need the company, but having Barbara around hasn't been so bad.

She's gave him plenty of good memories to get him by.

Barbara leans against the railed fencing, staring out over the water. “It's pretty deep there. Could jump and you'd survive.”

“Barb.” Niall groans. He doesn't like where this is going.

“I said I'd take you on an adventure. What's one without some thrills?” She suggests, grinning dangerously.

“I'm not going to jump.”

“C'mon, do it for me?” She's begging, and he hates how she resembles a puppy with her big eyes and pouting lips. It's incorrigible.

“What if I get hurt?”

“You won't, I promise.”

Niall gazes out to sea, measuring the long distance to the surface. They're probably only forty feet from the water, but it's still a long drop.

His heart sinks.

Niall gulps.

“I'll go first, it'll be fine,” she promises. Barbara twists over the fence gracefully, bracing herself against the railing as she looks down. “Cowabunga!” She shouts, jumping off the cliff and quickly splashes into the water. Niall peers over the edge, waiting for her to return to the surface.

Within seconds, he spots her flip her wet hair around her neck as she breathes in the much needed air. Barbara laughs. “Come on in! The waters great!”

Niall breathes deeply, preparing himself. He slides slowly over the railing, spotting the “no diving” sign, and he feels his heart drop again. When he looks back to Barbara, she's waiting for him to take the plunge. His heart races, its footfalls pounding loudly in his ears. Niall's hands sweat as they grip the railing tightly. His knees get weak.

He's never experienced a fear of heights before; _this_ is almost suicidal.

“Trip! What are you doing?! Jump in!”

Niall sighs, looking up to the sky, then closes his eyes. “It's now or never,” he tells himself. He holds his breath, releasing his grip on the world.

It's silent. Stagnant.

The rush of air deafens him and then he hits the water.

 

*

 

It’s quiet. Peacefully so, and Niall feels like he’s floating through space. Opening his eyes, he’s surrounded by darkness. Is he still in the water? He isn’t certain. Breathing feels just fine, but he’s all alone in this empty abyss. Tiny flickers of green haze over his eyes. It reminds him of the weak signal on an old TV, the static snowing across the screen.

As the emerald snow grows bigger, moving away like tiny jellyfish, he sees him. Harry’s swimming towards Niall, and he has to keep himself from gasping. How on earth did Harry find him?

“Niall!” He hears Barbara calling for him, but he doesn’t regard her. The visage of Harry in the flesh has him frozen.  His body falls into focus, and Niall's ready to receive him into his arms.

“Come home, Niall,” Harry requests, tears floating from his eyes.

“I want to, but I don't know if I can.” Niall hears himself say.

Harry wraps around Niall, embracing him tightly. “I miss you. I need you. The dreams are getting worse.”

“Mine are too,” Niall nuzzles his face into Harry's shoulder. It's warm. Cozy. He's home. “But I don't know how I feel about you. I don't think I can face you properly.”

“You are now, Niall.”

“Harry…”

“But I need you to wake up now.”

“What?” _Am I not awake now_? Niall wonders.

“And I need you to answer my call,” Harry adds, releasing him. “I'll be waiting.”

“Harry! Wait! Don't leave me!” Niall calls, watching Harry drift off into the ethereal green glow he materialized from.

The water around him rushes up towards the unrecognizable surface, pulling Niall with it.

 

*

 

Niall coughs the water from his lungs, gasping for air. Barbara's holding him in her lap, tears streaming down her face.

“Niall, oh god, you're alive!” She breathes. He's in her tight embrace then, her sobbing echoing in his ears.

The next thing he's hearing is the obnoxiously loud ringing of his cell phone. He stares longingly at their spot, wishing he had the energy to get up and answer it.

“I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I should've never made you do it,” Barbara cries. Her tears soak into Niall's skin. They're hot.

He gives a throaty chuckle. “I guess if my friends jumped off a bridge, I would follow.”

“Don't joke at a time like this, you asshole! I was so scared!”

Niall nods, nuzzling his head against her chest. He feels safe in her arms. “I know. I'm sorry for scaring you. Can you help me up?”

Barbara nods, bracing Niall as they get to their feet. She helps him to their blanket, grabbing for a towel and wraps it around his shivering body. Niall's phone is ringing again. He weakly reaches for it.

Whatever went through his head while he was on the brink of death was right. It is Harry calling him.

“Harry,” he gasps into the phone.

“Oh thank god! You asshole, finally you answer the phone!” Harry sobs.

“I'm okay.”

“I couldn't see colour for ten minutes. What the hell? I thought you died.”

“I kind of did,” Niall explains. “I think I was drowning.” Barbara gets up, her worried expression unchanging as she walks away to give him privacy.

“Drowning? Oh fuck, Niall…” Harry trails, his weeping gets louder. “I was so scared. You up and left and two months later I can't see colour and you tell me you were drowning?” It sounds like Harry's barely processing the situation. “What the hell happened?”

“I did something stupid. Dove off a cliff.”

“What?” Harry pauses. His end is quiet for a moment. “Why would you do that?”

“Thought it might be fun.”

“Jumping to your death is… Fun?”

“Harry… I need to go.”

“Okay. Call me when you get home. Just so I know you're safe.”

“Sure, Harry. Bye.”

Barbara rejoins him, she's got her keys in hand, looking like she's seen the actual face of death. “Wanna go home?”

“More than anything,” Niall breathes.

 

*

 

Niall gets home around ten. He doesn't say a word to Greg as he heads upstairs to his room.

 

Niall doesn't call Harry.

 

*

 

It's the end of March when Barbara says her goodbyes.

“Summer vacation is over and now I've gotta grow up,” she says, voice sounding enthused, but Niall knows better than that.

“Do you really have to marry that guy? Is there no way you can be with Jamie?”

Barbara shrugs. “It's not really a subject I can decide for myself. People think that the more money you have the freer you are. That's just not the case. Money is an object and so am I as long as I want to stay under that umbrella.”

“So you could always run away,” Niall remarks, leaning against the frame of the front door.

“It’s an option. After I rob a bank first.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Don't dare me,” she grins. “I just might.”

Barbara quickly closes the space between them, pulling him into a solemn hug. “I'm really going to miss you, Trip.”

“You too. You made things very… Interesting for me.”

“Good choice in words,” Barbara snorts. She pulls away reluctantly, sighing. “I hope you find what you're looking for here.”

“How did—”

She holds her index finger up with a cocky smirk. “It's all a part of the mystery, no?”

Niall smiles. “I don't think I'll ever figure you out.”

“Good. I'll be seeing you, in this life or the next.”

Niall watches her go, hopping into the passenger seat of her sister’s van. He waits till he can't see their tail lights anymore before he goes inside.

 

*

 

“I think I'm depressed,” Niall admits at dinner one night. Greg and Denise look to him, exchanging wordless glances to each other.

“I'm going to give Theo a bath. You two talk,” she says, pulling the toddler from his booster seat.

Once they've disappeared down the hallway, Greg speaks up. “I sort of figured that was what was going on. Do you think there's a reason for it?”

Niall shrugs. “Too many to count.”

“Do you want to see someone about it?”

“No. That's the last thing I want to do. The closest I'll get to a therapist is a bartender. The medication is cheaper.”

“Drowning your sorrows in alcohol isn't healthy, Niall.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to stop?”

“Are you telling me I have to?” Niall dares.

Greg smacks his silverware on the table, pushing his plate forward. “I'm trying to help you.”

“I don't need parental guidance. I had plenty of dad's version of being a parent.” Niall remarks. “I need someone to talk to.”

Greg gives in. “I'm all ears. What's on your mind?” Finally he begins acting like a brother. It's relieving.

Niall thinks for a while, sinking into his chair. “My dreams are getting worse.”

“The ones about Harry?”

“Yeah. One time it was so lucid that I felt like he was really there.”

“What triggered that dream?”

“Almost dying.” He answers bluntly.

Greg gapes. “How is this the first time I'm hearing about this?”

Niall shrugs again. “It didn't come up.”

“Your life was in danger and you didn't tell me because it ‘didn't come up’? What kind of excuse is that?”

“I guess I was just okay with dying. Some nights I think about how I almost drowned and wished I had died.”

Greg doesn't know what to say.

“Harry said he couldn't see colour for ten minutes. I think I did die. I didn't feel so empty then. But Barbara gave me CPR. She saved me.”

“Niall… How can I help you?”

“I don't know.”

 

*

 

The fog’s getting worse as the days slave on. It's the same routine. Wake up, eat barely anything, go back to bed, play his guitar for a while, then lay in silence till the fog drifts him off to sleep again. Greg tries to interact with him more now. His words are softer, cautiously selected. Niall hates being babied.

He barely feels human as it is.

Harry will try to call him, but Niall doesn't answer him. What would be the point?

His only saving grace is writing more music, but even that's becoming shielded by the antagonizing fog. He thinks maybe one day he won't wake up and he longs for it.

Niall finds Harry only in his dreams. He likes dream Harry. He isn't clingy, doesn't ask much from him. It's comfortable. Sometimes dream Harry will ask him to play a song. Niall sees the notes drift from the sound hole of his guitar. They're coloured in luminous blues and greens. Music is the prettiest in his dreams.

Sometimes they'll watch the gold and green sun rise through the dark horizon.

Niall finds himself staring at Harry more than the sun.

Harry's the most beautiful being in this realm.

Then he'll wake up, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep just to see Harry again.

He writes songs during the day just so he can sing them to Harry in his dreams.

It's sad.

 

*

 

It's about that time of day when Harry calls. The predicted ringtone distracts Niall from his favourite channel on the ceiling. He likes making patterns out of the seashell blue paint. It passes the time.

The offending device sings to life a second time. That's unusual. Harry will only call once and wait twenty-four hours before trying again.

Curiously, Niall picks the phone up, staring blankly at the unknown number. It's a London number, he knows that, but it could be anyone.

It could also be Harry calling from a different number.

He ignores it either way.

After a few minutes, his phone chimes with a voicemail alert. Niall regards the notification, pressing play to listen to it.

“Niall, I swear to the fucking heavens, if you don't get your ass back to Harry's apartment, I'll kill you. I will find you and end you for causing Harry to feel so hurt. How dare you play with his feelings like this? How dare you go and almost die and not even call Harry back like you said you would?” There's a moment of silence on Louis’ end before he finishes his thought. “If you don't get here within a week, I will call you every day until you do.”

The voicemail ends there and Niall finds himself actually laughing at it. It's so like Louis to intervene like that.

He only thirsts for the ambition to go back.

“ _I hope you find what you're looking for here._ ” Niall recalls Barbara wishing him.

Has it been trying to find himself or to find something deeper than that? He isn't sure what he was looking for when he panicked.

All Niall knows is that he got scared and flew the nest. He doesn't remember ever feeling uncomfortable living with Harry. It's never been about where he was.

Just that he never knew how to have someone else in his life the way Harry wanted.

 

Niall plays the voicemail for Greg. His brother listens patiently through the message, nodding at the end. “I think the message is clear enough.”

“But I don't know what to do. If I go back, things won't be any easier.”

“Probably not,” Greg agrees. “But wouldn't you be one step closer to figuring out how to make things easier?”

“I don't know. I don't think I can even face Harry.”

“How did you feel when you found out that Harry got in an accident?”

“It was scary. Then seeing him made me want to watch over him so it wouldn't happen again.”

Greg sighs. “Don't you think Harry might feel the same? Especially after your own incident?”

“That's different,” Niall defends.

“How so?”

“Because…” He starts but realizes he doesn't have an actual answer.

“Exactly. You keep denying feelings that exist. You still believe that the soulmate thing is a load of rubbish and it's jaded your idea of the world. Look who's seeing the world behind rose coloured glasses. It was never me, Niall.”

“I'm not denying anything. I don't like Harry like that.”

“Then why would you rather sleep than openly admit your emotions?”

Niall falls silent.

“When you figure out what you should do, I'll be here, ready to give you the ticket home.”

 

*

 

Niall: do you still love me ?

Niall: hello ?

Niall: Harry, please answer me.

 

Harry finally responds in the late hours of the night. Niall's phone ignites the room in a blue glare.

Harry: I still love you.

Niall: why ?

Harry: I shouldn't still care at this point, huh?

Niall: normal people would've already given up, that's for sure.

Harry: I guess I'm just not a normal person.

Niall: if I come home… I can't say I'll be able to try right away.

Harry: But eventually you could?

Niall: eventually. Yeah.

Harry: Okay. I hope you come home. I miss you.

 _I miss you too._ Niall wants to say, but his thumb shakes as it hovers over the text he'll never send. He deletes it and types something different.

Niall: I'll see you soon.

 

*

 

Liam picks him up from the airport. It's good to see his best friend after a long vacation from reality. His brown hair has grown out from the shaved style he had before, facial hair much longer than he remembered, and Niall doesn't think he's seen someone look happier.

Liam pulls Niall into a tight bear hug, his hold on him is almost suffocating, but Niall doesn't care. He could hug the life out of him and he'd be just as glad.

“You ass, can't believe you left. You could've gone into hiding at my place instead of escaping to the States,” Liam laughs. “It's like a dream that you're here.”

Niall returns the embrace. “I missed you,” he states simply.

“Welcome home.”

 

Liam drives Niall to his place. It's his only request for now until he figures out how to face Harry without feeling like he needs to run again. Liam makes them some coffee, and they move out to the balcony. Niall shivers from the cool April breeze.

“It’s colder here,” Niall remarks, rubbing his palms up and down his arms.

Liam nods. “Was California nice?”

“Peaceful, surprisingly. The people are weird, but what place doesn't have that?”

Liam chuckles. “I see.”

“How's Sophia?” Niall asks. He's yet to meet her and suddenly he's excited at the idea of it.

The smile that graces Liam's face is unexpectedly bright. “Niall, I finally met her.”

He's confused. “What do you mean?”

“She's the one,” Liam states. When the realization of his words register, Niall feels his heart drop.

“So it finally happened. Thought you'd be a little bit like me about it.”

Liam shrugs. “I thought so too. I was disturbed at first, but so was she. We had already fallen for each other before we did the test.”

“How'd that go?”

“We decided that whether or not we were destined for each other, we'd still stay together. I guess the cosmos was all for us from the get go.” Niall thinks about Harry's sister and how she held onto her love till her last breath. He's grateful that it worked out for Liam.

Niall smiles softly. “I'm happy for you. Can't wait to meet her.”

“Niall.” Liam says.

“What?”

“Her _eyes_ , mate. They're the prettiest amber eyes I've ever seen.” Liam coos, his face lighting up at the thought of her.

Niall spits out a laugh. “I thought you were going to say something important!”

Liam shoves him lightly. “That _was_ important, you ass.”

Niall laughs harder, grasping his gut. “Oh it hurts! It hurts!”

“Good! Suffer you jerk!”

 

It's good to be home.

 

*

 

Niall makes his rounds on who he should visit since coming back. He greets Maddie at the pub, surprising her by plopping wordlessly in his usual seat. Her back is turned when he arrives, and when he smacks his hand on the bar, demanding a beer, she wheels around, ready to slit his throat.

“You come into _my_ bar and—Niall you asshole!” She shrieks in stubbed surprise. “When the hell did you get back?” Maddie quickly rounds the bar, pulling him into a hug. “Don't you ever leave like that without notice. I'll kill you,” she promises.

Niall laughs, returning her grasp. “I won't do it again. I promise.”

“Definitely don't leave me with Harry in that state either. He's been a piece of work. I even have a running tab with a taxi for all the times I've had to call a ride for him.”

Niall rubs her back, pulling away to look at her. She looks like she's aged ten years, exhausted. “That bad? He's given you more worry lines.” He caresses the new wrinkles with a fond grin and Maddie swats his hand away, scoffing.

“I don't get paid enough to deal with him. I should've gone to college if I knew I'd become a therapist.”

Niall chuckles. She's the same old Maddie and he's grateful. “I'm sorry. I wasn't ready yet.”

“You had everyone worried sick. What the hell was the deal with almost dying?”

“You heard about that too?”

She grunts. “Harry drowned himself in tequila that night. I heard every agonizing detail. Had to leave Matty with him so I could get shite done.”

Niall feels guilty. “I should've called, I know.”

“If you know, then make it right with him.”

“Eventually.”

 

Maddie has Niall debut his return with his first gig in months. It's a sudden event, but people show up, looking like they've been waiting for centuries.

“You've got yourself a fan base. I'm pretty sure these people will follow you into the darkness if you asked them to,” Liam remarks. 

Niall smirks. “I'm your classic cult leader. Where's the community punch,” he jokes.

When Sophia shows up, he could've sworn a model just walked into the room. She's beautiful, _beyond_ beautiful, and Niall sees the instant attraction Liam must've experienced. She reminds Niall of Barbara in a way. That familiar strut of someone of higher class, minus the eccentric personality.

Sophia's shy, Niall learns, with her soft hello. The way she fidgets nervously as she meets him makes Niall realize that this is a pivotal moment for her. Sophia's contrast to Liam's social butterfly personality has him believing in opposites attract. Their love for each other is refreshing, but also envious. They're comfortable, but haven't fallen into that possessive stage that soulmates usually fashion themselves to.

“She seems wonderful,” Niall comments, and the proud look Liam owns strikes Niall with jealousy.

“She's an angel. I'm going to marry her.”

“I better be your best man.”

Liam smirks, “You're the only man in my life.”

Niall shoves him, “Shut up. You're gonna make me blush.”

 

Returning to the stage after a long break has Niall nervous. It's surreal. So unlike the first time he Eder played publicly. He's done this so many times and it feels like coming home. He's scared to disappoint.

“Thank you all for your faith in me. I couldn't do this without your support,” Niall greets, grasping the microphone like an old friend. “I wrote many songs during my impromptu break. Hope you like them.”

 

The chorus of cheers from his audience is astounding. He doesn't think he deserves it, but he's grateful. This couldn't have been a better return to reality.

Niall really feels like he's home.

 

When he walks into the bar, Niall's certain he'll throw up from the nerves. The sight of him is the hardest breath Niall's ever taken. He observes him, notices how his hair has grown more, the wavy tresses caressing his shoulders all the way down to the breast of his chest, his long lashes kissing the high cheekbones of his carved face. His eyes fall to the loose fitting blue shirt buttoned up to the middle of his chest, flashing the shining silver of his cross necklace draped easily over sun kissed skin. Niall wants to languish in his warm embrace. Wants to receive the cozy welcome he purchased from everyone else.

Of course, he doesn't. He can't bring himself to leave his seat to meet him.

The very presence of Harry is an enigma that has Niall frozen in place.

So he allows himself to watch from afar, content with only the sight of him. Harry's better in reality than the vision of him in his dreams. He's expecting to see him in a worse state, but there's a new air to Harry than he's ever known. He seems at peace, the crowd of friends floating to him like a magnet.

It's mesmerizing.

“Go to him,” Maddie whispers, her voice echoing in his ears like a dream.

“I can't. He looks too good to be true.”

“He's just as real as you or I. I'm certain he's been expecting your return.”

He has. Niall knows that. Harry was the first to know he was coming home. Now that he's here, Niall still can't fathom facing him. Can't imagine himself explaining what happened.

Harry moves around the room, greeting several of Niall's fans. It's a curious action.

“They know who he is,” Maddie explains. “They know about your connection with him.”

“Did he say?”

Maddie shakes her head. “Didn't have to. You look at the two of you and you just know you're meant for each other. That's how soulmates work.”

Niall never realized. He continues to indulge himself in the sight of Harry, eyes trained on the plush pink of those lips that drove him wild. He wants him.

It's maddening.

Niall really does think he'll throw up.

 

Zayn joins Niall's side later that night. The handsome presence of him has Niall seeing stars. Zayn flashes a bright smile his way, nodding in greeting.

“It's good to see you home.”

“I'm glad to be home, it's been a crazy second day back,” Niall replies against the rim of his pint, drinking greedily from it. He glances around, finding no sight of Louis. Curious. He figured they still be stuck at the hip. “Where's Louis?”

Zayn bows his head in shame. “We broke up a month ago. He found out about Liam and I.”

Niall frowns. “Oh no.”

“Yep. I'm living on my own for now. Praying for the day he returns to me.”

“You think he will?” For some reason, Niall's hoping that he does. Sure, Zayn fucked up, but if the soulmate business is true, wouldn't they find their way back into each other's arms?

If they don't, how could he ever have faith in that connection?

“I hope so. The cosmos has a way of bringing those meant to be back into each other's arms. I have faith.”

“I'll keep your wish in my prayers, then.”

“Thank you, Niall. I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Zayn smiles. “Have you talked to him yet?”

“I don't think he even knows I'm here,” Niall smirks half-heartedly.

“Oh, he _knows_. I think he's just too scared to approach you.” Zayn comments taking his shot. “This party is for you, that's the only reason we came here.”

Niall shakes with nerves. If he doesn't talk to Harry, it would be a dick move, but he still can't move from his spot.

“I was there when Harry found out you almost died.” Hearing the statement come from Zayn has Niall feeling guiltier than he has about the subject. He doesn't want to know how severe Harry reacted to it. If it was anything like how he felt, or worse, he thinks he might die all over again. Niall looks to Harry for the thousandth time, watches the curve of his lips turn up into a smile. He's laughing now, hand caressing the bow of the joker’s arm. Harry looks so at ease, comfortable in the flirtation of someone else's company.

It's got him shook up, wanting to intervene.

He still can't move from his seat.

“I don't think I've ever seen him in so much pain,” Zayn adds. “I don't think I've ever seen someone long for love the way Harry does.” Niall turns back to Zayn, processing his words. “He really loves you and I think it's killing him inside.”

He doesn't know why, but his words hit a chord hard enough to release Niall's hold on the one thing that grasped him to reality. The moment he leaves his seat, he feels like he's floating through the space between him and Harry. He slides to him, the world muted to his actions.

It takes ten steps to get to him. Ten, fateful steps, to finally close the space that's been separating them for months. Niall doesn't know what he's doing anymore, his impulsion to ostracize their distance overwhelming his soul.

Harry regards him softly, face falling from blissful ignorance to instant recognition of Niall's presence to relaxed comfort. It's terrifying. Now that Niall's inches from him, he wants to run again.

It's like Harry knows what he's thinking, and before Niall can react, he pulls him into his arms.

Reality Harry is so much better than dream Harry ever was. He's warm, he's real, _alive_. Niall can hear his heart racing underneath his cross necklace. He can feel the drumming thump against hot skin that has him feeling the mantra of coming home.

His arms finally wrap around Harry's body, fingers grasping at the soft fabric of his shirt. He can’t let go and he doesn’t think he’ll ever want to.

“You're really here,” Harry whispers into his ear, his hold on Niall growing tighter as the seconds pass like years. “I can't believe it.”

“I'm ready to be found.” Niall sighs, nuzzling against Harry’s pounding chest.

No longer a lost boy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos or comments are appreciated.  
> my tumblr is kissperingniall.tumblr.com if you want to follow me
> 
> It'll be a while before I post the sixth chapter. I've got finals to finish up and hopefully as of next week, I can really get started on this. I've got lots in store for this story.  
> I'm so grateful for all of the support. I'm obsessed with writing this, and I try to touch it every moment I have some free time.   
> As always, special thanks to Suz for dealing with me for the past 48 hours. This chapter has taken me on a trip. xx
> 
> Credits to Troye Sivan for the song Lost Boy that Niall sings to Barbara. If you'd like to listen to the full song, you can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFn7AIJ5c-Y


	6. TALK ME DOWN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Two things,” Niall starts. “That's not a word, and this is fucking amazing. You're missing out.”
> 
> Louis frowns, tucking his phone away. “Give it here, then.” He reaches for the glass but Niall shies away, drinking its contents greedily. 
> 
> “Nope. This is all mine.”
> 
> Louis pouts. “Twatface.”
> 
> “Don't forget that. I'll be seeing you in hell and Satan will let me do whatever I want to you.”
> 
> Louis gasps. “You wouldn't dare.”
> 
> “I'm thinking spankings for eternity. The paddle will have spikes on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CANNOT believe we've reached a whopping total of 44k words! This is so unreal, you guys don't even understand!
> 
> I'm now on spring break, so I have all the time in the world to write for the next week. Here's to getting chapter 7 out soon!
> 
> SOME TRIGGER WARNINGS: alcohol abuse, depression

The glow of the rising horizon illuminates their faces as they watch patiently. Contently. Harry's hand is warm in Niall's, grip loose enough to allow the morning breeze to skate through the loops of their fingers. Niall lied.

The sunrises are prettier here.

They're prettier with Harry.

Everything feels clearer with him. Harry's like coming home after a long departure. He recalls dream Harry, the way he always quietly listened to him talk. The small tilt of his head as Niall played a new song, never heard by real ears.

Reality Harry has more to give him than silent gazes. He's real, he's here, and he’s his if Niall will have him. How does the saying go? Don't dream your life, live your dreams?

Niall thinks he can do that.

Harry squeezes his hand, smiling softly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why'd you leave?”

It's the question everyone's been dying to hear the answer to. Niall's uncertain the real reason, himself. He shrugs, unknowingly. “I wanna say it’s because I freaked out.”

“Freaked out?” Harry tastes the words, but he still doesn't understand them. “What freaked you out?”

“You.” Niall answers bluntly. He lets out a chuckle. “You terrify me, Harry.”

Harry doesn't have a reply to that.

“I'm still unsure how I feel about you. All I know is that I need to be here.” He'd rather be black and blue than accept his feelings. He doesn't know why, but to accept them would be the end of things. Where do they go from there? How does life keep going forward when you know exactly what it is that's been holding you back?

It's frightening to think about the future.

“I dreamed about you every night,” Harry states. Niall looks to him now, watching as Harry recalls his nightly visits with dream Niall.

“Was I at least nice to you?” He jokes but Harry only smiles.

“You played me songs. Always new ones. You said that you wouldn't stop writing until a song was finished. I listened. The dreams were nice.”

Niall's stomach drops. There's no way they dreamt the same things. No way.

 

*

 

Spending time with Harry would be more enjoyable if not for the looming presence of Louis. He's a ghost of what he used to be, pacing around Harry's loft, lost in a trance. Niall spends most of his time watching him go back and forth, back and forth, only to end the constant mantra when Louis decides to pace elsewhere. At first it was funny.

Now Louis’ become a silent annoyance.

“I wish you'd actually say something instead of moping around Harry's apartment day after day, acting like a broken record,” Niall says one day. Harry looks up from his laptop long enough to smirk at his utter disdain of the situation.

Louis looks to Niall, eyes devoid of any emotion. “I wish you'd jump off a bridge. But we don't always get what we want,” he says monotonously. The smile that etches across Niall's face has an air of finality.

Niall's jovial laugh fills the living room. “He speaks! It's a miracle! Call the presses, Harry.”

Harry shakes his head, long tresses smacking lightly against his shoulders before he returns to the bright screen of his computer. Louis isn't finding Niall's joke to be all that hilarious if the absence of laughter has anything to say about it. He rebounds to his pacing again, the sounds of shuffling feet scratching against the polished wood floors.

Niall rolls his eyes, physically groaning as he gets up to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

“Isn't it too early for alcohol?” Louis remarks, never moving his gaze from the top of his feet.

Niall gives a nonchalant shrug, cracking the aluminum open and drinks from it, returning to his perch on the easy chair next to Harry. “It's five o clock somewhere, right?”

Harry reaches for some almonds in the bowl next to him, echoing the rough munching of the tree nuts crushing between his teeth. “I think Louis’ right on this one, Niall. It's only eleven.”

“Oh, I didn't realize I was in the presence of my mother. I think I'll pass on the nagging, _mum_.”

“How could a giant like me poop a midget like you out? It'd be unnatural. My children will be strong, burly men like me,” Harry determines, grinning proudly.

Niall just stares at him, scoffing. “Burly? You're as burly as I am Next Top Model material.”

“Ugh, get a room,” Louis gags.

“Wouldn't need to if you'd just go home,” Niall replies.

The elephant in the room finally shows his face. Silence has become the enemy of Niall, and this time, its back with a vengeance. Louis hovers over Niall, ready to pounce on command.

“Things wouldn't be this way if you'd kept your friend on a leash.”

“Oh now it's _my_ fault?” Niall asks, pressing an offended hand to his chest.

“Yes.”

“Maybe if you hadn't been a jerk about me, you would've never had that fight with Zayn. Ever think about that?”

Louis seethes. “No way. I didn't like you from day one. It's not my fault you had to go be an ass to the man that is now your soulmate.”

“Okay, that's enough, guys,” Harry urges, diverting his stare from his manuscript. “You should probably leave. I need to get this done.”

Niall nods, waiting for Louis to leave. Of course it's not without a loud scene as per his usual tantrums. The door slams shut, knocking some of Harry's décor off kilter. Harry turns to Niall, his stare unmoving to convey his need for Niall to go too.

“Really? You want me to leave?”

“You're a distraction and this is due next week.” Harry states matter-of-factly.

“Okay. Fine. I'll go. But I'm coming back tomorrow, without Louis pacing the apartment.”

“I make no promises. He can come and go as he pleases.”

Niall grunts. “Choosing your best friend over your soulmate, how could you.”

Harry chuckles. “I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth. Are you _jealous_?”

Niall stumbles, realizing the weight of his own words. “Of Louis? Of course not. I was only joking around.”

“Uh-huh. You just go do productive things at Liam's. I'll call you,” Harry grins, waving him off.

“I'm not jealous,” Niall grumbles, closing the door behind him.

 

*

 

The sun’s setting when Niall comes over the next day. He brings take out from Harry's favourite Chinese place down the street, and he grins excitedly at the sight of crab cakes. Quickly, he pulls one out, stuffing it into his wide mouth, eating it whole.

“I'm glad you're happy, but haven't you ever heard of savouring your food?” Niall quips, the corners of his mouth curving in a cheeky smile. Harry doesn't regard him, only adding another crab cake to his stuffed mouth as he returns to his manuscript. “What are you writing about?” It's the first time he's asked Harry about it, and surprisingly, he halts his clacking at the keyboard long enough to heed his question.

“I never thought you'd ask me,” Harry says, leaning over his chair, arm hanging freely from the back of it. “Take a seat, Niall,” he requests, pulling the chair next to him closer. Niall does as he's asked, sliding in beside Harry to stare at the screen. He highlights the main thesis of his manuscript: _There's a direct correlation with the ability to see colour and making your physical connection with your soulmate. However, what is it that biologically prevents us from fully using the function of the cones in our eyes? Are they present at birth but do not develop into a function until the electrical current between two body's electrons are passed? Or is it merely more of a cosmic event, one that has an origin of science that we cannot possibly comprehend yet?_

Niall intently reads over the first paragraph, marked on page one of five hundred twenty-four. He never realized that Harry had been doing research on the one thing that scientists have still yet to understand. There's been studies on colour and its mysterious circumstances, but none have proven further comprehension of the subject. The technology is just not advanced enough to document how to process how it really works.

Harry leans back in his chair again, staring at his laptop. He sighs, shaking his tired head. “The only method that could possibly prove fruitful to the answers we've been seeking, it's rather… Inconclusive even in practice.”

“How so?”

He runs his long fingers through his hair, pushing stray strands from his eyes. “It's to find two people that are matched together by the cosmos but they haven't touched yet, so then we could perform an optical scan of their eyes when they do touch. It would show what's going on with their cones as the change happens, but how do you know two people are meant for each other before they know it? That's why it'd be an inconclusive study. You just can't predict fates path.”

“I see.”

Harry groans, pushing his seat back with a loud squeak as he gets up, moving to the pantry for something, anything, to quell his million mile a second brain. He looks exhausted, and Niall just wants him to sit down and breathe.

“Are you almost done?”

“Almost,” Harry answers with a mouthful of mini pretzels—his crab cakes suddenly forgotten. Niall thinks to that last night they spent together, the way Harry felt against his lips, the warmth of his embrace, the sillage of Harry's sweet but musky cologne that lingered in his mind for months.

Niall gulps nervously.

He shouldn't be thinking about that night. It's too painful to remember the way he felt leaving like that. Harry's sleeping face was so peaceful, so happy to finally get what he wanted and yet, Niall just had to rip it all away like it meant nothing to him.

Even though it meant everything to him too. That's why he ran, he thinks. He just couldn't admit his feelings and even now it's still a struggle.

But he's willing to try.

“Harry.”

“Hmm?” He's humming a small tune as he reaches in the fridge for a water bottle, gulping it down quickly, and wiping his mouth with a relieved gasp.

“Kiss me.”

You could drop a pin and it'd echo in the sudden stillness of the room. So Harry does, the water bottle squishing against the floor, the crunch crunching of plastic pancaking into itself, the remaining water spilling onto the polished wood. The bottle rolls to the side, stopping at Niall's feet. Harry's expression is silent, eyes grown wide like lesser planets.

“What?”

“Kiss me,” Niall says again, putting the fallen bottle in the trash in next to Harry's makeshift desk. Their stare down continues, daring each other to make the first move, but no one has the courage to do it.

Harry breaks the stare, closing his eyes with a disbelieving smirk. “Niall… I—”

The abrupt smack of Harry's front door against the door jamb has them jumping in fright. “Harold! I need to talk to you for a moment!” It's Louis.

Niall groans. Of _course_ it's Louis. Ever the cock-block.

Harry starts towards Louis, but suddenly Zayn walks through the door, too, looking at the scene with innocent eyes. _When did people forget how to knock?_

“Oh…” Zayn breathes, dropping his phone attached hand to his side. “I'll come back another time.” He goes to turn back around, but Harry stops him, pushing Zayn towards Louis.

“Niall! C'mon!” Harry motions for them to leave, keys in hand and he quickly darts for the door, watching as Harry shuts it behind them, dead bolting it from the outside. Louis bangs on the other side of the door.

“Harry! You let me out this instant!”

“Sorry, Lou! It's time you two talked. We'll be back in an hour to let you out!” Harry calls, smirking wildly. Niall can't believe what he's hearing. Harry just locked his best friend in to talk with his ex. He never knew how manipulative he could be.

It's thrilling.

“C'mon, let's go,” Harry says again.

“Where?”

“Does it matter?”

 

Niall drives them in his 2002 Ford Ranger, tactfully named Robin Hood after Niall drunkenly decided that his truck would be an archer if it were a person. It's sort of beat up, the quarter panels dented and silver paint chipping off the sides. It was Greg’s before he bought a newer vehicle, letting Niall buy it for a measly 200£—of course he ended up giving Greg an additional 1000£ after couple years of saving—after he turned sixteen. It's got over 150k miles on it, but it's still trudging on like a trooper.

Harry watches as the streetlights fly past them, the red tail lights of other drivers on the road barely registering in Niall's peripheral.

“Pull into Tesco’s,” Harry requests. Robin Hood slides into the busy parking lot of the supermarket. It's busy for a Wednesday night, then again, Niall and Liam always came here in the middle of the night to do their grocery shopping to avoid the lines.

They get out, Niall instructing Harry to lock his door and head inside for—well Niall has no idea why they're here. He follows Harry silently.

Harry beelines for the paint aisle, automatically picking out three colours. “Which one? _Intricate Aqua_ , _Blue Gossamer_ , or _Cupid Green_?” He's holding the swatches, and Niall actually thinks about the slight differences between them. He notices that each have tints of blue and green in them and he correlates this with their own eye colours. Niall's not an artist, but he understands that it takes blue and green to make these colours.

“Is this some sort of symbolism?”

Harry smirks. “Are you trying to find us in these colours, Niall? I'm shocked.” He stares carefully at the colours now, pursing his lips in thought. “I think I like _Intricate Aqua_ for the bathroom. It'll match the new towels I bought.” Harry puts the other swatches away and grabs the attendant to get his chosen colour.

“The bathroom? You're repainting the bathroom?” Niall remarks, feeling dumb for thinking it’s symbolic for something that didn't quite have meaning.

This time around, Harry's less… Eager. He has no other word for this feeling. It's sort of insulting. When did Harry stop caring about trying to be together?

“Yeah. I ended up chipping off the paint in my bathroom when I was moving the curio case into it.”

Niall chuckles. “Why do you need a curio case in the bathroom?”

“Organization, my dear Niall. I can put books in there for when I poop in the morning. Gotta have reading material to choose from.”

“You could always just bring your cell phone with you like I do,” Niall scoffs, eyes rolling petulantly.

“Yeah, but just think, I can read whatever book I like under the ambience of _Intricate Aqua_.” He holds up his paint can for emphasis. “If I could, I'd buy me one of those seat warmers for the toilet for the cold winters. I like my bum toasted as I'm making bowel movements.”

Niall cannot believe they're talking about this, but it has him rolling in laughter. “Oh, please, stop it. It hurts.”

Harry smirks, “Wanna help me paint the bathroom?”

After being able to breathe again, Niall nods, “Sure, Harry. I'll help you paint the bathroom so you can poop in a better atmosphere.”

“That's the kind of shit I want to hear,” Harry grins mischievously.

“Gross. This conversation is so gross.”

“At least you're laughing. Most don't laugh at my jokes,” he says, emerald pools locked in a dead stare with Niall's eyes.

“I've always thought you were funny, Harry. Cheesy, but still funny.”

“I'm cheesy because it's part of my charm,” Harry states. “Speaking of, I'm out of cheese for sandwiches, and I've been craving a grilled cheese for _ages_.”

 

They pick up sliced cheddar and some wheat bread on their way to the check-out. The two of them don't get very far from Tesco’s when Robin Hood decides to start sputtering and jerking along the street till it comes to an inevitable stop.

“What's going on?”

Niall sighs, turning the hazards on and leans his head, defeated, back against his seat. He shuts his eyes, annoyed. “Sometimes this happens. It's a matter of the fuel injectors not getting enough fuel to their lines. I just don't have the money to replace them.”

“Oh.”

“So we wait, now.”

Harry barely lasts five minutes before he's getting out of the truck.

“Where are you going?” Ever since he got his cast taken off and the go ahead to do whatever he wants, Harry's been antsy. Can never sit still long enough for anything unless it's his manuscript or to take a shit, it seems. Harry barely has to step out of Robin Hood to reach the asphalt under them, his long legs giving easier reach than Niall could ever hope for.

“Well,” he starts, opening his grocery bag to fish out the bread and cheese. “I'm hungry, and there's a park half a block down the street and I'm going to make myself some grilled-fucking-cheese sandwiches. You coming?”

“You don't have butter,” Niall points out.

“Don't need butter to toast some bread. I'm going with or without you.” Harry says, shutting his door and heading down the street.

Smirking, he grabs the keys, climbs out of his truck, making sure it's locked, and heads after Harry.

The sun has long gone down, the sidewalk only illuminated by the yellow ambience of the streetlights. The days are starting to warm up, but the nights cool down quickly. By the time they get to the park Niall wishes he'd grabbed his jacket.

He watches from a bench table, chin in his palms, leaning his weight on his elbows against the surface of the wooden table. Harry flips the sandwiches with his bare hands, and Niall's certain he'll burn himself from the open flame of the charcoal—which is curious as to how he was able to get them lit in the first place. Maybe Harry has a secret stash of lighter fluid in his skin tight pockets?

Niall doubts that, but he doesn't question it.

Harry brings four perfectly grilled cheeses to the table. They're cradled by the plastic of the bread bag, crusty crumbs falling to the table as Harry rips the gooey cheese apart. Niall takes one, rips his own piece off and hums. It's good.

“How'd you light the charcoal?” He finally asks.

Harry, with a mouthful, says, “I founth a boddel of whiskey,” he swallows mid-sentence and Niall looks to the bread with wide eyes.

“A random bottle of whiskey? It could be laced with drugs!”

Harry shrugs, peeling the sandwich apart again, savouring the cheesy goodness. “That's the risk you take when you're hungry.”

Niall places his sandwich back on the bread bag, ignoring the small rumble in his stomach. He isn't going to take chances, even if it tastes amazing. So instead, he busies himself with watching their surroundings. It's peaceful. The small chirps from crickets playing their nightly orchestra, the silence of the streets behind them. It's only them in this whole park and he wonders how many times it's always been just them in this big world.

Niall counts the times out loud, using his fingers to keep with up the amount, “The day we met, that time at the hospital courtyard, our first kiss, and right now, eating possibly drug laced grilled cheese sandwiches.”

Harry stops eating to question, “What are you counting?”

Seven billion people on this whole planet, and it's felt like their own universe a total of four times.

“You ever feel like we're in our own little universe sometimes? Like no one else exists in this moment?”

Harry smiles behind his grilled cheese. “More than four times, actually.”

“More than four?”

“Yep,” Harry sets his sandwiches down to count. “The day you moved in and I made bacon, New Years when I threw up, the first time I asked you to kiss me and I told you I love you, that morning watching the sunrise. The list goes on and on, but I digress.”

Niall's speechless. He had no idea that Harry had even smaller moments of their own universe. It's baffling, and reminds him of those Russian dolls that get smaller and smaller as you open them up.

“How does that one movie go? There are bigger infinities inside some infinities?” Harry adds.

“Are you talking about _The Fault in Our Stars_?”

“That's the one,” Harry clicks his tongue in recognition. “Good movie, that. Anyways, your infinities only count four, mine, bigger infinities inside of yours, give me eight total, between yours and mine plus the list that I'll never count off because you _are_ my universe.”

Again, Niall's speechless.

“I suppose that's what happens when you fall in love with someone. Your little infinities turn into bigger ones as you fall for them more and more every day.”

This is the first time they've talked about Harry's feelings since Niall's come back. It's not terrifying this time around. In fact, it's fascinating how much Harry can love an asshole like him.

“You're too good for me,” Niall says, reaching for his possibly-drug-laced grilled cheese, biting into it.

Harry smirks devilishly. “Finally you get it.”

 

*

 

By the time they get back to the apartment, it's pushing eleven according to the screen of Niall's phone. It's quiet in the apartment, and when Harry and Niall spot Louis and Zayn, they're cuddled up on the couch, a late night talk show playing on the TV but neither of them look like they're paying attention. Harry sighs, the relief pooling out into the comfortable air of the loft.

“Did you two finally make up?” Harry asks, and they gaze up at him from their silent caress.

Zayn smiles. “Thank you for meddling. Childish, the way you made it happen but, thank you nonetheless.”

Louis gives a grunt of approval, then smiles, mouthing the words “thank you” at his best friend. When he glances to Niall, his smile falls. He's not surprised. “Don't think that just because Zayn and I made up, that I like you too.”

Niall rolls his eyes, hauling the paint bucket to the kitchen counter. “I won't hold my breath.”

“And don't think that just because you came back that you and Harry will work out!” Louis adds defensively, as if he's not the one to interfere initially. Niall's not sure if Harry even knows that.

“I think I can hold my breath long enough for that,” Niall remarks, catching Harry's soft smile that inches across his handsome face. Zayn chuckles.

“I think he's serious about Harry this time,” he whispers to Louis and there's another grunt from Niall's soft gutted nemesis. “Serious, my ass,” Louis says loud enough for Niall to hear him.

Harry puts his bread and cheese into the fridge, grabbing two beers for him and Niall. He gingerly passes a can to him, and Niall takes it gratefully. With an obnoxious crack, Harry opens the beer and swigs generously from it. Niall doesn't think he's ever seen him down a beer so fast. It's curious. “You need to get a new fuel injector,” he says.

“I know.”

“What if we went on a road trip and got stranded? I don't want to walk all the way to the nearest motel. I'd probably get _murdered_.”

Niall laughs. “Doubtful.”

“So are you going to get it fixed?”

“Do you have 200£ on you?”

“I just went back to work a week ago.” Harry points out. “So… No.”

Niall shrugs then, “I guess you're shit out of luck on getting it fixed.”

“Then why don't you get a real job instead of working at a bar two nights a week,” Louis snobbishly remarks.

“Because that's too easy,” Niall replies. “I like the struggle.”

“You're a masochist. How can you believe that your measly 300£ a week will build a future with Harry?”

Niall and Harry still at the idea of living a life together. It's unnerving. At the sign of no response from them, Zayn lightly smacks the top of Louis’ knee.

“C'mon, babe, let's go home.”

“Don't try to shut me up.”

“Well, you're just going to have to deal with it tonight,” Zayn says, grabbing his hand and pulling him up from the couch. “We'll leave you two be, don't stay up too late.” He smiles, Louis following behind him, quiet grumbles emitting from his mouth as they head back to their own apartment.

Niall can finally breathe the second the front door shuts. It's quiet, and looking to Harry, he's on his second beer, staring silently at the brick wall behind his entertainment center. A small hum sings from his closed lips, and he clears his throat.

“I'm glad they made up.”

Niall nods. “It'll be nice not having Louis pace around the apartment, right?”

“I thought it was rather cute. I like it when he's fighting with his own judgment. I think when I write a novel, he'll be a good model for a character.”

“Will he be pudgy like Louis, too?” Niall sniggers.

Harry nudges him, “Be nice. Louis isn't fat, he just doesn't work out his stomach. He's fun to cuddle with, too.”

“Cheating on me, now?” Niall jokes.

“Didn't realize we were a couple.” Harry remarks, drinking from his beer. When he finishes it, he crushes the can and puts it in the recycling bin. Niall only watches him, not knowing what to say to his casual comment. He's right. They aren't a couple. They don't do couple things. They only joke about it here and there, but their relationship is far from romantic.

“Right,” Niall finally whispers, bowing his head. He doesn't even know if he can be in a relationship with anyone. He doesn't feel stable enough for a commitment like that.

Harry moves to the storage closet in the hallway next to the bathroom. Pulling out the equipment to paint, he settles them inside the bathroom before moving to the kitchen to grab the _Intricate_ _Aqua_ from the counter. He looks to Niall and asks, “Wanna paint?”

Despite the lateness of the evening, Niall nods, leaving his beer on the counter. “I'll turn on the tunes and you get it ready?”

“Sounds good,” Harry says, heading back to the bathroom.

Niall plugs his phone into Harry's stereo, putting on some of his favourite songs. With a mix of alternative and EDM, he's certain this paint job won't take too long.

“Niall, you missed a spot.” Harry says in the middle of Niall's fifteenth stroke on the wall. He looks to Harry, pursing his lips indignantly. He's positive that he didn't, but he allows him his denial of Niall's painting skills.

“Where?”

“Right…” He trails, running his _Intricate Aqua_ covered brush over Niall's nose. “Here,” he giggles. Niall's mortified, eyes crossed to see the tip of his nose coated in the light green paint.

His eyes avert to Harry's dimpled face, determination filling his body. “Oh, it's on,” he declares, taking his paint roller and flying it across Harry's black Ramones shirt. He knows it's one of his favourites, but Niall quite likes his nose too. Harry gasps, his mouth in an offended “O” as the realization of paint being splattered all over his shirt hits him. He dips his brush back in the paint, flinging it at Niall in return.

So the fight of _Intricate Aqua_ paint ensues with _I Wanna Be Yours_ by the Arctic Monkeys playing in the background. The bathroom, half white half _Intricate Aqua_ , is filled with the sounds of roaring laughter and splatters of paint against everything that isn't the walls. It'll be a pain to get the paint off of the mirror, but Niall doesn't care as long as he can continue to see the way Harry's face lights up in excitement.

Their slaughter is interrupted by the sound of Niall speaking on the stereo. “So, this is the first time I've recorded a song, and it feels weird singing into the microphone of a shitty computer, but here goes. This is a song I wrote a while back, after I found my soulmate. I hope my feelings come across truthfully,” the recording goes, and then there's the familiar chords of his song, titled _Blue_.

It's the same song that Harry sang when Niall decided to stay the first time around.

Harry looks to Niall, wide eyed, expression melting into a softness Niall's never experienced before. “Your first song ever recorded is _this_ one?”

Niall gulps. He hopes it sounds all right. “Y-Yeah. I kept thinking about you when I was in California and—” his explanation is cut off by the sudden press of Harry's lips against his own. The kiss is rushed, passionately pulling Niall into Harry's caress, his long arms inching around his waist, strong palms pushing Niall closer. It's different than their first kiss, more heated, more physical, and so much more suffocatingly needed.

Harry tastes like beer and paint, two things that should never, _ever_ be mixed together, but it's unavoidable with the way he'd smacked paint dead across Harry's mouth prior. He's so intoxicating that his knees go weak, sliding them down the wall and sitting on the floor. Harry hovers over Niall, painted hands scraping through his gelled back hair.

Niall pulls away from him, only on the need to breathe, and presses his forehead to Harry's.

“Please don't leave again,” Harry begs. It strikes a chord in Niall's gut, has him feeling the need to desperately flee, but he fights it. He hates himself for ever putting Harry through that pain. He hates how he allowed himself to fall into a depression in lieu of being without him. It's driven him mad ever since.

Niall shakes his head, gasping for air. “I won't. I promise.”

A tear rolls down Harry's cheek. “You really fucked me up. I didn't know what to think, or feel. I hated you.”

“I don't know how you can love someone like me.”

Harry kisses him again. “I love you. You make me so mad, but I love you so much, you asshole.”

“I know.”

Harry kisses him yet again, inhaling Niall like he's the air he breathes. “I love you,” Harry says repetitively through several messy kisses, and every time Niall will reply, “I know.”

Painting the bathroom goes forgotten.

 

*

 

It becomes their thing. For every “I love you” there's always an “I know”. Niall doesn't know how far his feelings for Harry go, but he knows that he feels _something_ , which will always be better than nothing.

“So are you two an actual thing now, or?” Liam asks over dinner. Niall and Liam decided they needed a guy’s night out since Liam and Sophia are typically together at all times of the day. It's nice not being around those that are considered significant others. At least, Niall would think so if Harry seemed more into being with him. Something in him changed when he left. Maybe he never stopped hating Niall for leaving? Not that he'd ever blame him for it. Now he's feeling sort of antsy about the whole thing.

Niall shakes his head, stabbing his salad before munching on the crisp lettuce and carrots. “I couldn't say. We don't go on dates or anything. In fact,” he stabs another leaf of lettuce, angrily chewing it. “I don't think Harry cares much for trying to be with me unless he feels the urge to kiss me.”

Liam snorts. “You _did_ leave him after your first kiss. Can't say I blame him for being stand-offish.”

Niall groans, “I _know_. But no amount of apologies will ever make up for it. I'm an asshole.”

“One hundred percent.”

“But you still love me.”

“I have no choice in the matter. You're like family now.” Liam says, chewing his piece of steak laboriously. “This place never cooks my steak right.”

“Then why do you order it?”

“I'll never be disappointed, will I?” Liam gives.

Guess Niall can't argue with that.

 

*

 

Louis barrels through Harry's door on a Saturday morning, disturbing them from their sleep. Harry and Niall had finally decided to repaint the bathroom, again, and stayed up all night doing so. Niall ended up crashing on the couch, but he doesn't remember Harry ever lying with him. It's still a nice surprise waking up next to him, his musky sweet cologne caressing his senses. It'd be better if Louis had never burst through the door, but beggars can't be choosers.

Groaning awake, they look to Louis as he's practically yelling what he came to say. “It's time for our annual bar crawl!”

Harry grunts, eyes barely open, and he falls back to the couch, arm over his face.

“Bar crawl?”

“Yes, twatface, a bar crawl. So it's time to get up and prepare for the evening’s festivities. Except for you. You're _not_ invited,” Louis exclaims.

“He's going,” Harry states.

“Says who?”

“Says me,” Harry's voice is groggy, deeper than usual from sleep, and Niall's looking to him fondly.

“I don't have to go. Tonight's a gig anyways.”

Louis smirks. “See? He has to work. So let's leave him out of the fun.”

“We end the bar crawl at Maddie’s pub anyways,” Harry points out. “Just let him go. He's my plus one.”

Louis groans in defeat. “Fine. Twatface can come. But if you slow us down…”

“I can keep up.” Niall says.

“The crawl starts at seven. Be there or be square,” and as quickly as he arrived, he leaves. Niall sighs, falling back to his original position, curled up against Harry. He's warm, comfortable. This is the first time they've slept together since he got back. It's peaceful.

“You don't have to go,” Harry says after a while of silence. Niall shakes his head against Harry's back.

“I'll go. I'm sure it'll be fun.”

“You're gonna be too drunk for work. Besides, it's sort of a lame tradition we do. It's only the three of us, and it's to celebrate their anniversary.”

“Oh?” What an interesting thing to do on your anniversary. Not very romantic. Niall doesn't say anything though.

Harry shrugs, snuggling into his pillow more. “They found out they were soulmates on our first crawl three years ago. Ever since, Louis’ been adamant on recalling that night like it's an actual holiday.”

“He's rather…” Niall trails.

“Highly involved with himself?” Harry quips. They laugh. “Yeah.”

“I don't think he'll ever like me.”

“Probably not, but he can't choose what I do in my life, try as he might.”

Niall smiles, “Thank the cosmos for that.”

“Why?” Harry asks, angling his body to look at Niall. His hair is a mess, waves sticking out here and there, and it reminds Niall of a child. It's cute.

“Because I like to think that I'm a conscience choice for you. A _terrible_ choice, but conscience nonetheless.”

Harry's stare grows soft, and he leans down to kiss Niall's forehead. “I don't make terrible decisions. Want to go to breakfast?”

“Okay.”

 

They go to _The Breakfast Club_ down on Lavender Park, which is a bit of a drive from Harry's loft, but Niall's used to taking Harry anywhere he wants. It's bustling with customers, and at ten in the morning, it's expected; Niall didn't think they have to wait twenty minutes for a table.

“So here's a question,” Niall starts, piquing Harry's interest. “I have never asked where you work.”

Harry smirks, “No you have not. I work at a bakery down the street from Kingston University. I've been there since I turned eighteen. It's family owned, two sisters, older women, but they're infatuated with me. They never want me to leave.”

“Is it fun?”

“We have lots of fun. Louis worked there for a short time until his parents started giving him a monthly stipend.”

“So he really hasn't worked, ever?”

Harry shakes his head, laughing. “Nope. He's a spoilt brat.”

“It all adds up,” Niall exhales. Harry's laughing again, nodding in reply.

The hostess finally seats them, and it falls quiet despite the crowd of breakfast goers’ banter.

“You really don't have to go,” Harry says, browsing his menu. He doesn't glance up from it, but Niall's regarding him either way.

“I'll go. I want to see Louis’ disappointed face.”

“Why am I afraid that you two will fight?”

Niall shrugs. “He'll be the one to start it, I'm sure.”

“So am I. So be on your best behaviour.”

“Are you saying I'm not always a good boy?” Niall jokes. Harry glances at him now, a stern stare saying “no, you definitely aren't, but I'll let it slide this once”. “Okay, I'll try to not piss him off. I make no promises though.”

“Fair enough.”

 

*

 

Seven arrives before they know it, and they're meeting at a bar a few blocks down from Maddie’s. Niall's never been to another pub here, and a part of him feels like he's betraying Maddie in a way. His guilt melts away when he thinks about how they'll be ending the night at her bar.

Louis and Zayn are already seated inside, a few papers in Louis’ possession.  Harry and Niall join them, the bartender, Niall thinks he heard them greet him as Austin, waiting for them to decide what to drink.

“First things first, we start out with a celebratory shot.” Louis begins.

Zayn nods, looking to Harry and Niall with a smile. “This year it's Harry's choice.”

Harry ponders the thought. “Hmm… I think I'm gonna go with an Irish Breakfast Shot.” Austin regards his request, mixing in four shots of the shooter. As they're waiting for their drinks, Louis holds up the papers.

“This year were doing a scavenger hunt, we'll break into two teams, and I’ll be with Zayn and Harry's with twatface.”

“Now that doesn't seem fair,” Harry says. “You and Zayn always win because you know where everything's at.”

Just as Louis’ about to reply, Niall hears the familiar sound of Liam's deep voice calling from the front door. “Yo! Niall! I didn't know you drink here!” Sophia's trailing behind Liam, looking as beautiful as ever. Harry greets them politely, but Zayn’s looking to them with wide eyes. Niall can see the “please don’t say anything” in his eyes, begging for mercy.

“Hey, Li. We're doing a pub crawl,” he extends his hand to Liam, pulling him in for a hug and whispers, “Does Louis know that you're the one who… you know…?”

“I'm not sure.”

Louis hops off of his barstool, eyeing Liam and Sophia curiously. “Hi, I'm Louis.”

Sophia shakes his hand, smiling, “Sophia. This is my boyfriend, Liam. You guys are doing a pub crawl?”

The absence of knowing who Liam is tells the others not to worry. Zayn sighs with relief, turning to his shot and takes it. “Yeah,” Louis answers. “Did you want to join? There's only four of us.”

“Liam?” She turns to him, and Liam gives a nervous nod. “Sure! It sounds like fun. What are we doing?”

“We were just choosing teams for a scavenger hunt, but you two need to take a celebratory shot first. It's mine and Zayn's three year anniversary.”

Soliana claps excitedly. “We're celebrating your anniversary? That's so awesome! Two of whatever they had, please?”

Austin slides two more shots towards them, and the remaining shots are gulped down quickly. The silence is overwhelming, and Harry decides to defuse the situation. He claps his hands together, getting the groups attention, and flags Austin down. “Can you cut three straws and have us pick teams that way?”

“Sounds good,” Austin says, doing as Harry requests. He extends his hand, grasping the straws together. Louis draws first, then everyone else in turn.

“All right, let's match straws.” Harry states.

In the end, everyone's paired up like this:

Zayn and Liam,

Harry and Sophia,

And

Louis and Niall.

They glance to each other and groan. “You've got to be kidding me.” Louis says.

“Feelings mutual.”

“Don't drag me down, twatface.”

“Likewise.”

“Niall,” Harry warns, and Niall nods.

“I know, I know.” He waves Harry off. “What do we have to find?”

Louis gives a list to each of the groups. “We'll all end at Maddie's Pub. The losers have to buy the winners four drinks of their choosing. May the best team win.” He gives Zayn a good luck kiss and drags Niall off towards their next destination.

Niall scans the list.

- _a book of matches with a logo of the bar_

_-a condom_

_-a toothpick_

_-a coaster_

_-a shot glass_

_-a pen_

_-a menu_

_-someone's phone number_

_Take a picture of: (bonus points for each +5 points for each picture taken)_

_-a team member with lipstick on their cheek_

_-a team member stealing a kiss from the bartender/server_

_-a team member drinking the girliest drink in the bar with an umbrella in it_

_-a team member with a bra over their shirt_

_-a team member doing or providing a body shot_

_-a team member sitting on the toilet_

_Super bonus round:_

_-1 point for each different beer bottle cap_

_-take a picture of the most hipster stranger (+3 points)_

“A condom? _Really_?” Niall mumbles.

Louis scoffs. “We practice safe sex in my household, and I intend on making love to my boyfriend.”

“Gross.”

“No, what's gross is Harry thinking you're worth all the bullshit you put him through.”

Niall glances behind him, watching the way Harry kindly interacts with Sophia as they're looking over the list. He knows Louis’ right, but he'll never give him the satisfaction. They walk into the next bar. It's another Irish pub, but its business is nothing compared to Maddie's place.

“Easiest way to do this is to get all the easy shite. I'll go grab the beer, you get the matches, a coaster and a toothpick,” Louis instructs. Niall silently nods. He finds each item at the bar, the easiest find he's ever had. Louis passes him his pint. “Did you grab the stuff?”

“Yeah,” Niall answers, holding his find casually. “Where are we going to find a condom, though?”

“I'll check the bathroom. Sometimes they have them in little machines.”

Niall grimaces. “That is so weird.”

“You've never picked up a bird and had to get a condom for a one night stand?”

Niall shakes his head.

Louis’ eyes grow. He tries to stifle his laugh. “Wait, don't tell me. You're a virgin?”

Niall tenses. “Well don't say it so loud.”

“Holy shite! You _are_ a virgin! This is classic. Even Harry's not a virgin and he was the one _waiting_ for his soulmate.” He sounds so pleased and it's aggravating.

God he really hates this guy. Niall chugs his beer and calls for another. He drinks that one down quickly too. Louis has since ignored him, gone off to tell the rest of the group about his new discovery. It's not even that big of a deal, but to Louis, any dirt he can find on Niall is a gold mine.

Nervously, Niall turns to see the look on Harry's face as he's told this new information. The group doesn't find it to be as funny as Louis does, and Harry's heading towards him.

Wait.

 _Don't come over here. I don't want to know what you think about something that isn't that fascinating._ Niall thinks, shielding his face with his hand.

Harry seats himself next to Niall, asking the bartender for another beer. She slides it across the bar with a sweet smile and Harry gives her money for the pint.

“Sorry about Louis, he's a bit…”

“Of a complete asshole? Yeah. Didn't know that,” Niall groans sarcastically. “Of course the cosmos would pair me with the one guy that hates my guts. I really shouldn't have come.”

Harry places his hand over Niall's and grasps it gently. “I don't care about that kind of stuff, you know that.”

“I know,” Niall sighs, allowing his fingers to intertwine with Harry's.

“I love you.” Harry whispers, leaning in to kiss Niall's cheek.

“I know.”

Louis’ still laughing by the time he rejoins Niall. “Still can't believe you're a virgin.” Their hands part ways instantly.

Harry eyes him harshly. “Knock it off, Louis. It's not funny.”

“Sure it is.”

“No. It's _not_.” Harry says and finally Louis surrenders.

“All right, all right. Twatface, you ready for the next hunt?”

Niall rolls his eyes. He has a long night ahead of him.

 

They find all of the collectable items on the list by the time they make it to the bar before Maddie's. They found a condom at a biker bar—Niall reminds himself to never use it.  Niall's probably twelve beers in, finding it harder to keep his balance, but it helps deflect anything Louis heckles him with. This bar is a little more toned down than the others they've visited. The patrons are dressed to the nines, and it rings in Niall's head that this is one of those classy bars.

“We can get that girly drink here,” Niall remarks and for once, Louis’ impressed.

“Good eye. How many bottle caps do you have?”

Niall fishes them out of his pocket and counts, even if it is a little hard to focus “Twelve. You?”

“Fifteen. I think we'll be good as long as we grab a few pictures.”

Harry and Sophia are at the bar and she's got her bra over her black dress. Harry snaps a picture, and Niall can see that he's posting it to Instagram. They start laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, and Niall's happy to see Harry having fun, albeit if he's a bit jealous.

Louis orders a Cosmopolitan, requesting the pinkest umbrella from the bartender. He returns to Niall, the red drink swishing inside of its triangular glass. He has a bottle of beer in the other hand. “This is for you,” he says, passing the Cosmo to him with a smirk. “The girliest drink for virginest virgin I know.” Niall glowers at him, hoping his angry state will come out in the picture as he drinks it. Despite the name and his ego, it tastes delicious.

“Two things,” Niall starts. “That's not a word, and _this_ is fucking amazing. You're missing out.”

Louis frowns, tucking his phone away. “Give it here, then.” He reaches for the glass but Niall shies away, drinking its contents greedily.

“Nope. This is all mine.”

Louis pouts. “Twatface.”

“Don't forget that. I'll be seeing you in hell and Satan will let me do whatever I want to you.”

Louis gasps. “You wouldn't dare.”

“I'm thinking spankings for eternity. The paddle will have spikes on it.”

“Sounds naughty,” he smirks. “Speaking of dares. I dare you to do a body shot off of Harry, and then I want you to give Harry the naughtiest look you can muster.”

Niall feels his stomach flip at the thought of touching Harry in any way sexual. Not that he hasn't before, but in public? Screw that.

“No thanks.”

“If we lose, it's your punishment.”

“My punishment? It's not going to be my fault if we lose.”

“It's _my_ anniversary. By default, I'm not the one that can't do his job right. Just ask Zayn how good I am.” He grins, getting this pleased expression across his face.

“Gross.”

“Yeah, so don't lose and you won't have to do it.”

 

In the end, despite all of their efforts, they lose. Harry and Sophia take the win, reveling in their free drinks from the losers. Niall groans, keeping his stare away from Harry.

“Why so glum, chum?” Maddie asks, wiping the condensation from the bar. Niall shakes his head.

“Tonight's just been a rolling shit fest.”

“Louis giving you a hard time?” She says, wiping the red lipstick from Niall's cheek. He'd gotten a double whammy from Maddie, winning the lipstick on his cheek and stealing a kiss from her for a total of ten points. But they were five points shy of beating Harry and Sophia, dubbed the Wonder Twins for getting a perfect score. If only they gotten more bottle caps.

“You got it.”

Maddie clicks her tongue. “I never take him seriously. I just let him dish his shite and leave him be.”

“Yeah but he's not your soulmate’s best friend.”

“True.” She says. “I'm sorry, love. Are you going to be okay to play your set?”

“Yeah,” Niall replies, grabbing his guitar from behind the bar. He approaches the stage, the bar falling quiet. He'll never get used to that. “This set is dedicated to the happy couple, Louis and Zayn. We've been on a pub crawl all night to get us here, our final destination. Here's to many more years of happiness,” Niall cheers, and he can see the grateful expressions from Louis and Zayn—even if half of their duo is reluctant to it.

 

“While your speech was super heartfelt and totally necessary, you have to pay up, loser,” Louis says when Niall ends his set. Harry's looking between them curiously.

“I really don't want to.”

“It's your fault we lost, and a deals a deal.” Louis argues, directing Harry to a clear table and sits him on it. “Take off your shirt,” he commands.

Harry looks to him, confused. “What?”

Niall sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “I'm sorry, Harry, but it's my punishment.” An embarrassing one at that.

Reluctantly, Harry removes his black dress shirt from his torso, passing glances between Niall and Louis, watching as his best friend heads to the bar for Maddie's attention. She returns with a shot of tequila in hand.

“All right boys, this is still a respectful establishment. I hope you understand what I mean by that.” She declares, looking to Harry now. “All right love, I need you to lie back on the table.” Finally getting the gist of what's going on, Harry does as he's told, looking to Niall with wide eyes.

Niall frowns, shooting an awkward glance at Louis before directing his stare to Harry's toned chest. He hates that he's so perfectly sculpted, he hates the attraction he feels watching as Maddie sprinkles salt across his cut midsection and places a lime between Harry's plump lips. She hands Niall the shot glass, taking a few steps back. The other members of their group crowd around them, passing excited stares to one another. Niall's certain he drank more than everyone else, but they look more wasted than he feels.

Niall positions himself between Harry's legs, gripping his hip with one hand and quickly takes the shot. Slowly he drags his tongue up the length of Harry's chest, tasting the bitter of the tequila and languishes in the sweetness of the lime in contrast of the salt. Harry moans at the sudden cold wetness left on his chest, staring drunkenly up at Niall. It's debauched and incorrigible how the heat goes straight to his groin. He can't help but want to pull him into a kiss.

So he does, pulling Harry up with him. Niall's hands are in Harry's hair, pulling him in closer. He tastes like a brewery, but Niall couldn't care less. If Louis wanted to make a joke out of this, he won't get the upper hand.

There's the sounds of hooting and wolf whistling around them, and despite that, they return to their small universe.

Maddie breaks them apart, attempting to calm the storm of their little audience. She hands Harry his shirt, and he takes it, face flushed bright red. Niall can't tell if it's from the kiss or the amount of alcohol he's consumed. The crowd pulls away, returning to their respective places, leaving Harry and Niall with a sore loser Louis.

His arms are folded across his chest, huffing angrily. “Dammit, Harry. You ruined it.”

Niall turns Harry towards the patio door, smirking victoriously back to Louis. “Guess you're the loser now.”

He doesn't stick around to hear Louis’ reply.

 

Harry's still flustered when Niall joins his side. He leans over the fencing, looking out at the underpass of the freeway, watching the tails of red go by. Harry sighs, rustling with his own hair to try and find his composure again.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry exhales. “Just a little winded.”

“I'm sorry for doing that. It was Louis’ idea.”

Harry looks to him, baffled. “Was the kiss his idea too?”

“No. All me, I'm afraid.”

Harry turns to him, running his hand gently over Niall's cheek. “Then I'm not so upset. Just a little.”

“A little?”

“Yeah.”

Niall's confused. “Why? I figured you'd be entirely upset because it's so—”

Harry cuts him off, pulling at his chin to kiss him deeply. “You're the absolute biggest tease.”

“Oh…” Niall breathes, leaning back into Harry's waiting lips.

 

**

 

Days of consistently working on the final pages of his manuscript fly by so fast, Harry doesn't realize he hasn't seen Niall in four days. He doesn't think anything of it, really, but the absence of contact has him slightly concerned. He decides to send him a quick “hello” text, certain he'll receive a response within the next half hour.

Niall's never been one to constantly keep a text message going, except when Harry was home for Christmas. He chalked that down to Niall worried Harry was going to hurt himself again, so when things went back to a relative norm, he wasn't too upset when Niall wouldn't text right away. That, and Niall also lived across the hall at the time.

Things have definitely changed since, and when his text goes unanswered for two hours, he begins to really worry. So he calls.

It rings twice and directs to voicemail. “The hell?” He stares at the call details and redials, receiving the same outcome. Harry tries to call Liam instead. Maybe he'll say that Niall's just sleeping.

“Hello?” Liam answers, his voice sounding a bit flustered.

“Hey, is Niall home?”

Liam sighs. “Dunno. I'm not home. Last I checked, he was sitting on the recliner watching footie. Why?”

“I just haven't heard from him in a few days and I tried contacting him, but he didn't answer.”

“He could be taking a massive shit, or maybe he's sleeping. But I've gotta go. I'm with Sophia right now.” As Liam's hanging up, he can hear her giggling, “Do you think he heard us?” and then Liam saying, “If you didn't grind on me like that then he—“ Harry instantly ends the call, blushing.

“I did _not_ just hear them having sex. There's no way,” he tells himself. Harry goes back to his sighing, staring hopefully at his phone, willing Niall to finally call or text him back.

The call just never came.

 

*

 

After two weeks of radio silence, Harry starts to get seriously concerned. It's like when Niall left the first time, and even though he's within his reach, he still can't get to him. He doesn't know what he did wrong, or right for that matter, all Harry knows is that there's something seriously wrong. On the fourteenth day of zero contact, Harry makes his way to Liam's apartment.

He's only been here once to get Niall to take him to the store. He argued that it was a shorter trip to Niall's than to the store and that it'd be easier for him to bring groceries home. Niall didn't want to leave the loft that day, his hair in a mess from being in bed for hours, but he still took him. He really is too kind for his own good without realizing it.

So it's with a heavy heart and a flip flopping stomach that Harry knocks on the door. He waits for an answer, and like the last two weeks, receives nothing in turn. He calls Niall's phone for the millionth time it seems. He hears it singing inside, but there's no sign of movement. Something's wrong.

Really _really_ wrong.

Frantically, Harry finds Liam's number, his call answered on the second ring. “Yeah?”

“I'm really freaking out, Liam. I can hear Niall's phone ringing but he's not answering the door.”

“Maybe he wants to be left alo—” whatever he says is drowned out by the agonizing sound of Harry screaming in pain. “H-Harry?”

There it is. That awful telltale sign of his colour fading from his vision—of something bad happening to Niall. It burns, traveling from his eyes all the way to his heart. No one ever describes this pain, but Harry relates it to having a heart attack and a stroke simultaneously. He really needs to get inside.

“Harry?!” Liam calls again, only to get a trail of excruciating groans. “Harry, there's a spare key under the mat. Get inside and call 911, I'll be there soon.” He instructs, hanging up the phone.

It's an arduous struggle, but Harry finds the key leading to his salvation, and he shoves it into the lock, quickly barreling into the apartment. It's dark, save for the kitchen light, and that's when Harry sees him through a random mess of grayscale and colour.

“Niall,” he shouts, coming to his side. Niall's unconscious, skin quickly growing cold in Harry's arms. Panicked, he dials 911, the dispatcher answering immediately.

“911, what's your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance, my friend’s fallen unconscious and his heartbeat is barely noticeable.” Harry cries, tears racing down his face faster than he can blink.

“I'm going to need to you calmly state where you're located.”

Harry gives her everything she needs, turning Niall onto his stomach, remembering reading about the Bacchus Maneuver. He thinks he might drown in his tears.

 

*

 

“He has severe alcohol poisoning,” the doctor states, his tone the exact opposite of how Harry's feeling. Which is very afraid, and definitely panicked. He suffers through the fading—a term he coined the first time Niall almost died—for at least an hour. If not for this agonizing connection, he's afraid that Niall wouldn't have been saved in time.

Knowing the information doesn't help Harry calm down, though. Usually Niall's good about his alcohol intake. At least, Harry thought so. He never seemed overly zealous with his drinking. So when the doctor asks these questions, Harry answers doubtfully.

Liam arrives after they've pumped Niall's stomach. He's still not awake, but his heartbeat has stabilized and his temperature returned to normal. Liam's gasping in the doorway, glancing between Harry and Niall worried.

“What happened?”

Harry stares blankly at Niall, rubbing his thumb over the curve of Niall's hand. “Alcohol poisoning.”

Liam sits next to Niall, across from Harry, frowning. He gazes to his friend with a sullen expression. “I should've known when he went through two thirty packs in two days.”

“How could you have known it was this bad?” Harry defends.

Liam shakes his head. “I'm an awful friend. I should've been home more often. I should've seen the signs. I should've—“

“Liam… It's okay.”

“No it's not!” Tears start to firm at the corners of his amber eyes. “Niall's a—” He trails.

“Just say it,” Harry says, his heart heavier.

“Niall's an alcoholic.” Liam finally admits.

Silence deafens the bleak hospital room. What more could they say?

So they just cry.

 

*

 

Harry's there when Niall wakes up.

It's been three weeks of constant checking on him, injections of Thiamine to his bloodstream, constant reminders that he might never wake up. The colour in his vision has all but faded, and the fear of Niall never coming out of his coma has more than overtaken Harry's subconscious. Most nights he sleeps by his side. Others he goes home and lays restlessly in his cold, empty bed, crying over Niall's addiction. 

He had no idea. Liam's right, they should've seen the signs. There was never a time Harry saw Niall without a beer in his hand, except maybe when he was driving. However, how many times had he been driving under the influence? How many times had Harry unknowingly been in danger because of this silent disease overriding Niall's mind?

It's scary.

The doctor says it could be genetic of either if his parents or grandparents had a history of alcoholism. Or it could simply be because he's depressed. Neither explanation gives Harry security.

When Niall finally pulls out of his coma, the colour rushes back to Harry’s irises. It's disorienting, but the beautiful sight of those blue eyes has Harry shedding tears he didn't think he had anymore. “Oh thank god,” he gasps, kissing Niall's hand gratefully.

Niall groans, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Harry?”

“I'm here, love.”

His eyes scan the white walls of his hospital room, and he looks to Harry confused. “Where am I?”

“The hospital.”

Niall sits up quickly, staring at the IV in his arm. “Why am I in the hospital?”

“Niall,” Harry starts, but the blonde is hastily panicking, attempting to rip the IV from his arm, only in vain. “Niall, I need you to listen to me,” he begs, trying to calm him down.

He looks to Harry angrily. “Why the fuck am I in the hospital?!”

He's becoming uncontrollable, and Harry presses the red button to signal for the nurse. He wanted to let Niall down softly with his diagnosis, but Harry realizes it's useless to sugarcoat it. So he just blurts it out, “Niall, you're an alcoholic and I think you need to seek professional help.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos or comments are appreciated.  
> my tumblr is kissperingniall.tumblr.com if you want to follow me
> 
> As per usual, big thanks to Suz for reading every typo I ever make and letting me down easily for them :D  
> Thank you for all of the support. I really really can't do this without you guys. I'm hoping that one day I can start illustrating this story. xx


	7. ILLUSION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's absolutely enticing. "My favourite spider legged jelly bean,” he thinks, then Harry pauses, staring down the washer machine. A small smile betrays him, and he's chuckling. 
> 
> Finally, Harry looks to Niall. “What flavour jelly bean?”
> 
> Didn't he think that? There's no way Harry would've… “Oh no.” The realization is wide across his face. Niall feels his own body falter at the confession he'll never be able to take back. 
> 
> Harry's full of laughter now, holding his stomach. “You totally just said that out loud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I was going to make this into two chapters, but decided to give the whole thing instead. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope a lot of questions and desires will be satisfied.

"I'm a what? That's a crock of shit,” Niall growls, glaring Harry down, or at least, trying to. The doctor said he might have a bit of amnesia from the coma, but he isn't ready for him freaking out. He isn't ready for the betrayed look on Niall's face.

The second a nurse pops into Niall's room, she's quickly gone, returning with the doctor. His recovery is astounding, something they weren't expecting any time soon. It takes both of them to get Niall to sit back on his bed, relatively calmed down enough listen to what he doesn't want to hear. The doctor flips through his clipboard of medical papers, examining his vitals and has the nurse put another injection of Thiamine in his system.

“We're going to keep you here one more night, just for observation, but your alcohol consumption needs to stop if you don't want to end back here again. The alcohol poisoning was so severe that you were in a coma for three weeks,” the doctor explains. Somehow, hearing that he was in a coma has Niall believing in Harry's words. When the doctor leaves, he cries.

Harry tries to hold his hand but Niall smacks it away. “No don't. I don't deserve your kindness.”

“Niall…”

“I'm an alcoholic. I'm a bloody alcoholic,” he tastes the nasty words on his tongue. “I've become my useless father,” he's not even talking to Harry anymore, just repeating his mantra over and over. Harry doesn't know what to do or say, so he just listens to him.

 

*

 

“I called Greg,” Liam tells Harry. They meet at the cafe down the street from the hospital for lunch. Niall said he wanted to be left alone and against his better judgment, Harry did as Niall asked and left, on the condition he'd be back later.

“His brother?”

“Yeah. They don't have the best relationship, but he's the only family he really has anymore.”

Harry frowns. He feels like his face will permanently be this way. Niall's alcoholism hit him hard, wishing, wanting to have seen the signs earlier. Niall coming home was just so blissfully unreal that Harry refused to see anything negative. He recalls the countless times he gave Niall a beer and he wants to hit himself.

“What did Greg say?”

Liam swallows his bite of his BLT, smacking his lips as he licks stray mayo from the corner of his mouth. “He said he's hopping on a plane and that he'll be here tonight. Guess he found a red eye flight that only stops in New York.”

“How's Niall going to react?”

Liam shrugs. “It'll probably be bad. Greg has this fatherly air about him instead of being a big brother. I'm sure Greg will tell you the details. I asked him to talk to you first.”

Harry's stomach sinks. He wishes he were meeting Niall's only family under better circumstances. They finish their lunch in silence, left to their own wandering thoughts.

 

*

 

Palms sweaty, heart racing, beads of sweat trickling down his temple, Harry's nervous. Liam asked him to pick Greg up from the airport, giving him the keys to Robin Hood. It's easy enough to spot Greg, but Harry's glad he has a sign—GREG HORAN, it says simply—to direct Niall's brother to him. Greg's taller than Niall and broader in stature, his eyes a darker shade of blue, but their noses are the defining feature showing their brotherly relation. Harry can tell that Niall and Greg take after each of their parents whereas Harry and Gemma looked more like their mum than anything.

Greg looks tired, bags under his eyes, an unkempt beard growing. He has one duffle bag over his shoulder, packed only for necessities, Harry figures.

“Harry?” Greg asks, approaching him.

Harry nods, smiling lightly as he extends his hand. Greg swats it away and pulls him into a hug, the sign falling to their feet, forgotten. “It's so good to finally meet you,” he says into Harry's neck, squeezing Harry tightly.

He can't help the ironic chuckle that forces from his lips as he returns Greg's embrace. “I wish it were on better terms.”

“How is he?” Greg asks, pulling away from Harry to finally get a good look at him.

“He's… Stable enough. He just woke up this morning. Freaked out.”

Greg only nods, pulling Harry back into his arms, the hug more sympathetic than friendly. “Before I see him, we should talk.”

 

They head to the only diner open at midnight. It's an American themed 50s diner three blocks down from the airport. Greg was surprised when he got into Robin Hood, remarking about the pristine condition of the interior.

“He really took care of it. I'm so proud.”

“He does love his truck, even if it has its issues,” Harry says, pulling into the diner parking lot.

“Issues?”

Robin Hood demonstrates by sputtering to a stop in its parking space. “Fuel injectors are shoddy. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't.”

Greg frowns at the condition of the truck’s engine. “Why doesn't Niall fix it?”

“Doesn't have the 200£ to replace the part.”

Then there's the famous fatherly tone Liam warned Harry about. “If he didn't spend all of his money on alcohol then he'd be able to fix it.”

Harry doesn't say anything.

They talk over cheeseburgers and fries. They're silent the first half of eating, then Greg wipes his mouth, sets his napkin on the table, folded neatly, and looks to Harry. “I'm sure Niall hasn't told you about our family.”

“No.” He'd try to bring it up, but Niall would choke up and go silent so Harry stopped after a while.

Greg sighs, clearing his throat. “Niall was fourteen when our parents split. With me being six years older, I understood, but Niall was such an innocent boy. He just thought that our parents weren't seeing each other for a while. Then da started coming home drunk every night. I'd send Niall to his room to study. I never wanted him to see his own father turn into the monster he became. I learned how to do makeup to cover the bruises da would put on my body from taking his pain out on me. His alcoholism started before he and mam divorced, it was the break point for her. She wanted to take us with her, but when the custody battle came along, da sobered up enough to pass the tests, claiming he went to AA meetings and the he was seeking help. When the judge asked us who we wanted to live with, Niall said da, and I followed him, only to protect him. God knows what would've happened if I'd went with mam.

“As we got older, Niall began to understand the consequences of living with da. Niall came home early from school one day, and da hit him. Of course da felt so bad for hurting his ‘precious’ son,” Greg scoffs. “When I got home from work that night, Niall was alone. Da had left and I had to take care of my sixteen year old brother. I learned to become a father at twenty-two.”

The weight of Niall's backstory has Harry gripping the hems of his jeans tightly. He knew Niall didn't have the best life, but he didn't think it was that bad.

“Niall never thought of me the same after that. He doesn't like when I ‘play dad’ but what could I do? I wanted him to live a relatively normal life away from all of that hate.” Greg sighs, returning to his cheeseburger now. “When he was in California with me,” he pauses, shaking his head. “I don't know. He got worse. I tried to stop him from drinking so much, but he's too much of a rebellious spirit to listen to me. He told me he was depressed, that he couldn't handle being away from you anymore. So I sent him home, thinking you'd be able to help him better than I could.”

Harry gulps. This is the first he's hearing of Niall's depression. Then again, Niall didn't mention much about his life in California either. “I'm sorry I disappointed you.”

Greg shakes his head again, reaching across the table to stop Harry. “This is not your fault, by any means. I think Niall's been dealing with these demons for longer than he's known you. I believe that meeting you changed his world so much that he realized there was someone else to live for and it overwhelmed him.”

Tears burn hot in Harry's eyes. It's too much to bear. He loses it. “I love him so much and…” He pauses, gasping hard through his tears. “And there's nothing I can do to help him. I'm so useless.” Harry cries into his palms, body sinking further into his seat. Greg sighs softly.

“Having someone by his side is going to help him more than on his own. He can find the strength, you just have to have faith.”

 

*

 

When they get to Niall's room, the sobbing mantras of “I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry Greg. I'm sorry”’s echo throughout the boring white of the room. Greg comes to Niall's side, pulling his brother into a long hug. Niall cries.

They all cry.

It's the worst Harry's ever felt.

 

*

 

Niall signs his release forms the next morning, leaving the hospital with Harry and Greg. They leave the decision of where he's staying up to Niall.

“I want to be with Harry.” He says simply, devoid of any emotion. His eyes are puffy and red from crying all night. It's surprising any of them have any tears left. Harry nods.

“You're welcome to your old room.” Niall shakes his head.

“Let Greg have my room while he's here. I'll stay on the couch.”

“Niall…” Harry says. “I'll take the couch.”

“You could always share your room,” Greg mentions. His meddling is so innocently given that it has them blushing at the thought. They'll discuss the matters of sleeping arrangements later, Harry decides.

He drives them home. The apartment’s dark, curtains closed, but it wouldn't matter to open them with the bleary gray skies overhead. Harry goes to the fridge, quickly tossing out the remaining beer cans. He can feel Niall's eyes on him, burning through the back of his shirt. When Harry hauls the trash bag over his shoulder, his eyes meet Niall's, and he grimaces slightly.

“I'm sorry,” Niall murmurs. Harry drops the bag, caressing his cheek tenderly.

“Hey, I don't need beer anyways. It's not a problem.”

“But it's my problem. You shouldn't have to—“

“Niall.” Harry says. “It's okay. It's only a precaution.” He picks the trash bag up again, heading out the door to dump it in the dumpster outside.

 

Niall stays up late, watching the TV with a blank stare. Harry's left him to his own devices, focusing on his manuscript as much as possible. He's three weeks behind, and he's pushing the deadline. This time in a month, he'll be graduating with his bachelors in writing, but he can do this.

It's pushing two in the morning by the time Harry looks up from the computer. With a yawn, he saves his file and closes his laptop. The TV’s barely a whisper, and Niall's passed out on the couch. Harry smiles, admires the way Niall curls into himself without a blanket, but he doesn't even look cold.

Harry thinks back to the previous conversation about where Niall would sleep. Greg's since gone to bed, and Harry would really rather not have Niall stay in the living room. It's fine and all when they got drunk and passed out there, but not now.

He scoops Niall's body into his arms, cradling him against his chest and smiles at how dead to the world he looks. Harry kisses Niall's forehead, chuckling as Niall snuggles into his chest before heading down the hall to his room. Lightly, Harry lies Niall on the bed, pulling the covers over him before crawling into bed himself.

Harry pulls Niall into him, arms wrapped protectively around his stomach, whispering a soft, “I love you,” to the silence.

It's the first night in three weeks Harry sleeps well.

 

*

 

Greg stays for a week, spending time with Niall while Harry goes to work and school. They don't say it out loud, but it's a precaution, and Harry hates how he feels like he's babying him. He's quiet mostly, giving grunts for replies, barely eats, and spends most of the day glued to the TV. Niall quit working at the pub after a while. Harry figures, if Niall wants to be sober, he should be the one deciding that, not Harry and definitely not Greg, but here they are, coddling.

“We should probably back off a bit,” Harry says in private. Greg looks to Harry over his cup of coffee. Niall's distracted by the TV, his new pastime. Harry wishes he'd at least pick up the guitar, it's collection of dust screaming neglect.

 “Why?”

Harry glances to him, bewildered by Greg's innate sense to smother. “Because he's twenty-three and a grown adult.”

“He's still a child to me. I told him to stop drinking so much and now _look_ at him. He's a hollow shell of what he was.”

At first Harry liked Greg. He really did, but now he can see why Niall didn't want to be around him. The overbearing parental indulgence to coddle Niall had Harry begging for a break.

Harry doesn't say anything further on the subject. Greg will be leaving in the morning and then he and Niall will be able to breathe.

 

*

 

Niall wakes up next to Harry every morning. It's nice to see him begin to smile and Harry's hoping it's because he's here with him. Niall's hair is a mess from taking a shower before bed. Harry likes when his blonde tresses are haphazardly sticking out in places Niall normally wouldn't let happen.

Harry reaches out to caress Niall's cheek, blotched red and hot from sleeping on his side. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Niall mumbles, head careening into Harry's palm. After Greg left, Niall visibly sighed with relief. Part of him seemed to appreciate his brother’s company, but as the days went on, he began to tense up, timidly moving about the apartment like he was walking on glass. Now he acts with freedom, slowly returning to himself, albeit without the happy-go-lucky attitude he used to portray. Niall tenderly kisses Harry's hand, holding it like it’s the most precious gem he'll ever hold.

Harry giggles at the light tendrils racing up his arm. “You need to shave. Your stubble tickles.” With a grin, Niall runs kisses up and down Harry's arm, making sure his scruff rubs lightly across his skin. Harry laughs, pulling his arm away from Niall quickly. “Stop it,” he sings.

Niall laughs. Oh _god_ did he miss his laugh. It fills the room brightly, stirrings of yellow and pink enveloping Harry's senses.

"I love you," he tries. It's the first time he's said it out loud since coming home from the hospital, and he's nervous he won't respond positively.

As usual, Niall surprises him. “I know.”

So Harry says it again.

Niall gives his familiar reply and for the first time in a month, things feel relatively normal.

 

“Hey, let's go out today.” Harry offers over breakfast Saturday morning. Niall looks up from his pancakes that Harry had made into shamrocks—why? Because it's cliché and Harry's all about clichés—long enough to regard his suggestion.

“Where to?” Niall asks, stabbing at three layers of pancake before shoving them into his mouth. He's starting to get his appetite back, which, is a serious improvement. Harry chalks it all down to Greg constantly hovering over him.

Harry smirks. “It's a surprise. That all right?”

Niall nods, his focus back on his breakfast.

 

*

 

Harry doesn't take a chance on Robin Hood’s shoddy engine, so they take a taxi. It's about an hour drive to Cheshire, and he can tell by the look on Niall's face that he's never been here before. It's sweet, the child-like curiosity he owns so well.

"It's so _green_.” Niall exclaims. “It reminds me of Mullingar.”

“How long has it been since you've been home?”

“Five years. The last time I saw my da was for Greg and Denise's wedding but that was in the States.”

Harry looks to Niall, speechless. This is the first mention of his dad and he wonders if Niall knows that Greg told him. He ignores the thought, placing his hand lithely over Niall's. The blonde glances down at their hands and gives a slight smile before returning to the window, allowing Harry's fingers to fall between his.

“I love you,” Harry smiles.

Niall replies, chin in his palm, “I know.”

He squeezes Harry's hand tighter.

 

The dire look of shock when Niall realizes they're driving to the cemetery has Harry stifling a chuckle. The taxi drops them off at the entrance and Harry instructs for the taxi driver to pick them back up in thirty minutes. The five minute walk is in complete silence as Niall processes the location. When they reach their final destination, Harry's pleased to see the fresh flowers left on her grave, letting him know that his mum was here this morning. It's a weekly ritual for her, visiting Gemma at seven every Saturday morning, always leaving a bouquet of Tiger Lilies—her favourite when she was alive.

Harry kneels down, clasping his cross necklace between his hands and prays to her. Niall kneels next to him, quietly looking to Harry timidly.

“Hey sis. I know I should visit you more, but today's a little different than most. Remember when I told you I met my soulmate?” Niall watches Harry intently, patiently waiting for a reply that'll never come. Harry continues regardless, “Gem, I did it. I don't know how, but I'm in love with him and he accepts me in his life now.”

 

**

 

The weight of Harry's words fall over Niall like he's been given the whole world. Forever Atlas in the eyes of his cosmically fated relationship with Harry. Somehow, Harry's always been the one to hold them up positively, no extra weight holding him back and then there's Niall. The complete opposite, bearing the heaviness of everything negative in their lives. A literal manifestation of yin and yang.

Harry's words echo “he accepts me” consistently, reminding Niall that he hasn't been the easiest person to deal with. He feels guilty, wondering if he's been difficult because of his own stubbornness or if it's something so deeply rooted that it affected his entire judgment. Harry's been nothing but wonderful to him, and it's taken everything Niall has to allow himself to accept the idea of having Harry in his life in general.

So to hear these words coming out of that beautiful mouth, the languid length it takes Harry to say “he accepts me”, has Niall on the brink of tears.

“I want you to meet him. I want you to admire the man that's changed my whole life. I wish you could tell him that he's so much more than he believes himself to be. And I hope that one day, you'll accept him into your life too, Gem.” Niall can't take it. There's no other way to describe how unbelievably happy he is to hear such undeserving kindness. He wants to tell Harry that he's all of that and more, that he's the one that's stuck with him despite all of the bullshit he's put him through.

Niall crushes under the pressure of Harry's beautiful words, and he weeps. Face between his palms, he loudly sobs, body shaking, heart racing; it's overwhelming. Harry looks to Niall, his smile fading as he tries to process Niall's reaction. He doesn't expect him to understand, because Niall isn't sure he understands himself either. All he knows is that he's so irrevocably happy to be loved beyond measure.

Harry reaches out to him, hand caressing the curve of Niall's back. “Did I say something wrong?”

Niall sniffles, wiping his eyes quickly. “I'm sorry. I'm not upset, really.”

“You sure? If this is too much for you—“

Niall shakes his head vigorously. “Overwhelming, yes, undeserved, yes, but…” He trails, regarding Gemma now, smiling softly. “Hi Gemma. It's so wonderful to meet you.” He hiccups through the silent reply of the elegantly engraved gravestone, marked “ _GEMMA STYLES Shed not for her the bitter tear, Nor give the heart to vain regret, Tis but mere ashes that lie here, The Gem that filled it sparkles yet.”_ He picks up the picture of her, smiling gratefully. “You are missed, and I wish I had the chance to meet you. And without ever knowing you, you've touched my heart more than words can speak. I promise to take care of Harry until my dying breath. I'll always hold on to the beauty of his soul.”

Harry's quiet. He pulls Niall into his arms, staring at Gemma’s picture with him. Niall can hear the pounding of Harry's heart, allows himself to melt into the warmth of his embrace. Harry softly breathes, smiling again. “Thank you.”

 

*

 

The taxi picks them up again, and Niall's expecting them to just head home, but with it being so early in the day, Harry decides to take them elsewhere. Just ten minutes down the road, they come to a stop at a two story cottage decorated with a lovely flower garden of Tiger Lilies in the front yard. The top floor windows have flower balconies filled with yellow tulips, and vine draping down from the roof. The dainty mailbox adjacent to the driveway is marked “Twist” and instantly Niall knows this is Harry's childhood home.

Nervously, he gets out of the taxi with Harry, giving the driver their payment before they head up to the house. Harry's got him by his hand, slowly leading him up the flagstone steps to the wooden front door detailed with an extraordinarily fashioned stained glass window. He knocks twice before entering, and instantly Harry's calling for his mom.

“I brought a guest,” Harry adds and the classy visage of his mom enters the foyer. Niall watches as she gleefully hugs her son, twirling him back and forth even though she's a fraction of his lanky height. Harry transforms from casual serious uni student into a child coming home from summer camp. The sight is almost too sickly sweet for Niall to handle, but when she gazes towards his direction, Harry's mom practically melts.

“Is this…?” She asks Harry and he gives a proud nod. Before Niall knows it, she's hugging him too, squeezing tightly around him to the point of possible suffocation. He likes to think his own mom would do the same if he still talked to her, but he shoos that thought away, focusing on Harry's mother. “Oh, it's so wonderful to finally meet you! I'm Anne, but you can call me mum if you'd like.”

Niall smiles awkwardly at the too familiar exchange, uncertain of how to properly respond. “It's good to meet you too, Anne.” He gasps. Unable to remove himself from her embrace, he looks to Harry for help.

Harry taps Anne on her shoulder, distracting her from her choking love. He sniffs the air. “Were you about to make lunch? I can help.”

Anne's bright blue eyes grow, “Oh! I've forgotten about the lasagna!” Quickly she's rushing down the hall to what Niall believes to be the kitchen. Harry ushers Niall down the hall festooned with pictures of Anne's family. He eyes at least a dozen pictures of Harry, ranging from early childhood to his high school graduation photo. There's an arrangement of images of Gemma in the shape of a heart on the far wall pointing towards the arch of the kitchen’s entrance.

Anne's busied with pulling the lasagna out of the oven, sighing with relief that she didn't burn it. Harry helps her set up the kitchenette, and the entire setting is purely domestic. Niall feels like he's being crush under the brightness of their familial bond and he wants to run. But the fond look Harry gives him as he pulls out a chair for Niall has him racing back to him, comfortable in Harry's presence.

He takes his seat, and Anne places the lasagna on the center of the table. They sit in complacent silence as they eat, only words of appreciation for the meal is shared.

 

When they're finished eating, they retire to the living room. Anne brings in freshly brewed tea and settles into her chair adorned with a finely quilted blanket that Niall's certain was made by her. When she smiles, he easily sees he resemblance between her and Harry, that familiar dimple appearing on the same cheek.

Sipping from her own tea, she finally says, “So what brought you by?”

Harry smiles softly. “I introduced him to Gemma today. I thought it'd be proper to bring him here to meet you as well.”

Anne nods, the sadness of lost child still clearly in her eyes. “I'm really happy I got to meet you,” she's regarding Niall now. “I know Gem was happy to meet you, too.”

Niall gulps. “I'm really sorry for your loss. I'm sure she was an amazing person.”

“One of the best,” Anne replies. “Thank you, Niall. I can see why Harry's so fond of you.”

“Oh, I… Uh…” Niall scratches the back of his head nervously. “I'm quite fond of him as well.”

Harry places his hand over Niall's knee and instinctively Niall's free hand falls over Harry's. He realizes he's shaking and Niall isn't sure if it's his own nerves or the way both of them are looking at him like he's the best thing since sliced bread.

“Do you want to see my room?” Harry asks.

Niall gazes at him, slowly nodding. They get up, excusing themselves from Anne's company, and Harry leads Niall up the stairs to his room tucked at the back of the second story hallway. They pass by a room with a nameplate stating “ _Gemma_ ” with flowers and stars decorated around her name.

“Mum never touched her room. It's still in the condition it was before she left.” The thought is heart wrenching. To have never removed Gemma from their lives as if she just went off to college and is making a life of her own. Niall can't imagine that kind of loss and it breaks his heart. Harry opens the door to his childhood room, the smell of youthful memories pouring into Niall's senses instantly.

It's a quaint room, painted blue with white mid-boards lining its angles, with a single window dropping an endless amount of sunlight inside. The plethora of teenage posters are still hanging against the walls, and Harry's desk looks like it had just been left after a serious study session. His full sized bed is positioned along the straight angle of the wall, comforter perfectly placed along its edges. He's bittersweet from the perfect childhood Harry grew up in, something Niall could never imagined possessing.

“It's not much, but I made a lot of memories here.”

“It's perfect,” Niall whispers. They sit on the edge of Harry's bed, knees knocking, shoulders touching. He feels weird, like they're in high school and trying to hide their relationship from Harry's parents, a luxury Niall definitely didn't experience. “I'd show you my childhood home but we moved so much I never had a place that I could go back to now.”

“I'm sorry. I wish you could've had a better childhood.”

Niall shrugs. “Greg made sure I was blissfully unaware for most of it. I thought we were a relatively normal family, just moved a lot.”

“About your father…”

“He's an asshole and I'll be happy if I never see him again.” Niall bites, gripping the bedspread tightly.

They sit in silence for a while. Harry eventually lays back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Niall joins him, observing the Coldplay poster gazing down at them. It's the fifth Coldplay poster he's spotted and he smirks.

“You were a fanboy, weren't you?”

“Were? Still am. Just more reserved.” Harry chuckles, sighing. He turns into his side, looking to Niall with a tender stare. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

“Thank you for everything,” Niall says, turning his gaze to Harry now. “I don't think I could ever repay you.”

Harry shakes his head. “Just you being here is enough for me.” He caresses Niall's cheek lovingly, his smile overly sweet. “I really love you.”

“I really know.” Niall chuckles, leaning in to kiss him.

 

*

 

“Why am I always the last one to know things,” Louis complains as Harry and Niall walk up the stairwell to their apartment. Louis and Zayn are standing in front of their own apartment, staring at the two of them with blank stares. Louis’ got his arms crossed petulantly, nose in the air like a snob. Niall thinks that he'd be bearable if he'd only get a better attitude. “When did you two decide to live together again?”

Harry fumbles with his keys, looking for the apartment key without regarding Louis directly. Niall can tell that he's getting just as annoyed with him and he feels a moment of victory. “About a week now.”

“But _why_?” He exhales deeply, elongating the word like it’s glued to his tongue.

“None of your business,” Harry replies, opening his door. The four of them file inside with Harry letting Niall in first. He attempts to beeline for his room, but Louis stops him.

“I didn't threaten you to come back to just have Harry treat me like this.” Harry looks between them, confused.

Niall sighs. He's really not in the mood. “Harry's treating you like this because you're obnoxious.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Niall growls, glaring at Louis. “You act like you own him just because you've been friends since before you could wipe your own ass. But here's a newsflash, Harry's his own person. Let him do what he wants to do and maybe he'll tell you things again.”

Louis scoffs, eyes flashing with abhorrent hate. “You are stepping way over your boundary.” He starts to rush Niall, hand balled into a threatening fist, but Zayn and Harry quickly intervene, pushing their respective significant others apart. “All right all right. That's enough,” Zayn warns, but Louis’ pushing against him, trying to get to Niall.

“ _Fuck_ that. I've been wanting to punch his stupid face in since I met him. Let me do it.”

“Definitely not. We're going home,” Zayn groans, looking to Harry. “I'm sorry, Haz.”

Harry shakes his head, holding Niall against his chest protectively. “It's fine. I'll see you later, Zee.” Niall pushes himself out of Harry's arms the second they leave. “Why do you instigate him?”

“My very existence is a nuisance in his eyes. I could breathe the same air as him and he'd rather choke to death,” Niall replies, heading towards his room.

“Wait, Niall, what did Louis mean by ‘threatening you to come back’?”

“I'm going to bed.” He answers, slamming the door behind him.

 

**

 

“I really thought I was getting somewhere with him.” Harry says over coffee. Louis looks to Harry, uncertainty of why he's here clear on his face. “I know you don't like him, Lou, but I really love him and I don't want him to keep getting worse.”

Louis stirs his tea, sips from the hot liquid timidly, and sighs, setting his cup down gingerly. “Two things: I hate him. I can't see how you can keep trying with him. He's such an asshole, and I know I haven't been the nicest person to him, but I can't help it when I see him. He makes me so mad.”

Harry nods. He knows all of this. It's the biggest reason he wanted to talk to Louis, maybe try to get him to understand more than he thinks he knows.

“The second thing, I have no idea what you're hiding from me about him. If it's serious, and it's affecting you, I wished you'd tell me. I know I haven't been the easiest person to get along with lately, but I didn't think you'd start keeping secrets from me.” Louis frowns, and finally, _finally_ Harry can see the kindhearted person that is his best friend. Harry reaches across the table, hand gently placed over Louis’, and smiles.

“I love you, Lou, you're my best friend. My friend soulmate. All I wanted was for you to ask instead of trying to control what's going on in my life.”

Louis bows his head. “I'm really sorry, Hazza,” he links his fingers with Harry's, pushing his palm against his. “I've been a little shite, haven't I?” Harry only nods. “So what's going on? Why's Niall living with you again? Did he knock you up?” He jokes.

Harry laughs. “Yep, were expecting in the winter. Can't you tell that my handsome physique is blowing up like a balloon.”

“A sexy balloon,” Louis adds, chuckling. “Okay, but really…”

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand. “Lou…” He can feel those traitorous tears threatening to break through his eyes. “Lou, Niall's an alcoholic.”

He's expecting some sort of backlash from Louis, but he gives him a sympathetic stare, returning the squeeze of their palms. “That's… I was not expecting to hear something like that.”

“I found him unconscious from alcohol poisoning. He went into a coma for almost a month.” So Harry tells him the story, the terrifying way it felt to go through the fading for three weeks. How scared he was to think that he'd never wake up, and to now, how he's has waking nightmares that it'll happen again. That he'll continue to get worse. The tears finally betray him, streaming down his face. His coffee’s gone cold, forgotten. “I love him so much. I can't help it, he's got so much to offer than he believes, and I fear that I can't ever help him recover.”

“Oh Harry…”

He shakes his head. “I'm terrified that one day he'll disappear again and never come back. I'm terrified that he's never going to love me the way I love him, and even if he accepts me in his life, that I'll never be enough.”

“Have you told Niall this?”

“No. I can't put that kind of pressure on him. Last time I tried to force things, he left to the States for three months.”

Louis sighs. “That's when everything went to shit, for everyone.” Harry nods, and Louis’ wiping away his tears with a tissue. “Can I ask you a question completely unrelated?”

“Okay.”

“Is Liam, that guy that was at the pub crawl with us, is he Niall's best friend?”

Harry stills. After a while, he pulls his hand away. “Lou…”

He sighs loudly, “I knew it. I was wondering why the air got stagnant when he walked in.”

“Louis… Zayn's trying so hard…”

“I know,” he scoffs. “But he's treated me like shite. How dare he do that and think that I've one hundred percent forgiven him.” He begins to weep now. “We're going to couples therapy.”

Harry didn't know that.

“We don't sleep in the same room. We barely talk at home. The only time we seem normal is around our friends. It's a front.” He laughs, disdained. “We tried having sex once, but all I could think of was Zayn and the other guy—Liam—and I couldn't do it. I think our only saving grace is that we're soulmates.” He pauses, struggles to breathe. “If we weren't, then I wouldn't feel like I need to be with him.”

Harry doesn't know what to say.

“So I guess we're both in really shitty situations, Hazza. I'm sorry I haven't been there for you.”

“I'm sorry too.”

Louis smiles halfheartedly. “Wouldn't it have been easier if you and I were supposed to be together?”

“Loads.”

They laugh softly, “I promise to be better. I'll always be there if you need me, okay?”

“Me too, Lou. Always.”

 

*

 

Niall locks himself up in his room most days. He'll come out briefly to use the bathroom or grab something to eat. It's never long enough for Harry to try and talk with him. He doesn't understand what's going on. Sometimes he'll knock on Niall's door, to no avail. At first Niall would tell him to go away, but now he doesn't say anything. Harry's all but given up at this point.

He throws himself into the rest of his manuscript. Graduations around the corner, and it's getting seriously nerve wrecking.

“Harry,” his professor calls to him after class one day. He's slightly older than Harry, has his students call him Nick instead of Professor Grimshaw. Harry thinks it's due to his younger than usual age compared to the other teachers. Harry's read articles about Nick, the ingenious breakthrough he made in the literary world with his thesis on seeing colour. He's the whole reason Harry began writing his own paper on colour, to try and surpass what's already been discovered.

The students had turned in their initial draft a month ago. Nick finally finished reading them last week. Harry's just been waiting for his feedback. With the serious expression Nick’s conveying, he believes that this is it.

“Your paper,” he begins. “Was absolutely astounding. I would like to discuss it further with you.”

Harry beams, the pride he feels in his work being recognized by someone he's idolized secretly. Once, when he first saw a picture of Nick in a magazine, Harry had a crush on him. Only slightly. “I'm so happy you liked it.”

“Liked?” Nick chuckles. “On the contrary, Harry, I loved it. It's a perfect sister piece to mine. I'm impressed.” Nick’s got Harry's printed manuscript in his hands, eyeing it with admiration. “Why don't we meet for coffee one day? I promise to have more feedback for you at that time.”

“I'd like that very much, Nick.”

 

**

 

Niall finds a quiet corner to hear his own thoughts. Or lack thereof. He's deep into a fifth of whiskey, he stopped counting after seven, when a familiar face comes into his line of sight. She's a mirage, if he ever saw one, glowing under the neon of the bar’s ambience. Niall decided to stay away from Maddie's, figured he'd get slack going somewhere where no one knows him.

After a month of secretly leaving the apartment to escape here, Niall's been caught.

"I figured I'd find you in a bar, but I thought you were a celebrity, why are you all alone?” Barbara mentions, settling into the booth seat across from him. Niall smiles at her, at least he thinks he's smiling, and shrugs.

“I never said I was a celebrity.”

“Sure acted like it,” she points out. A tall, burly man approaches them, handing Barbara her Honey Jack on the rocks. Niall observes him, the way he greatly contrasts Barbara's tiny body. She regards her companion with a fond smile. “Oh,” she gasps, turning to Niall. “Trip, this is Jamie. Jamie this is Trip.”

Jamie extends his hand, and Niall shakes it, grinning slightly. “Niall, actually. Only Barb’s allowed to call me that.”

“Fair enough,” Jamie replies with his deep booming voice. He settles in the space next to Barbara and finally Niall realizes it.  

“You never got married.”

“Well…” She starts, raising her left hand up, flashing the sparkling tiny stone on her delicate finger. “I did, just not to the guy my parents wanted me to.” Niall's eyes dart between Barbara and Jamie and he smiles.

“I'm impressed. I knew you wouldn't betray your heart, but I didn't think you'd jump the gun like that.” Niall remarks, polishing off the rest of his shot. The severity of his drunkenness hits him quickly, Barbara and Jamie a vision of double no matter how much Niall tries to shake it off. He groans, calls the bartender for another.

“Are you all right?” Barbara asks. Niall isn't used to this side of her. The side that shows more careful compassion, throwing away any ounce of eccentricity she held back in California. He also isn't used to the ceiling being so high up, and what is that stinging on the back of his head? “Niall!” Barbara calls, her and Jamie hovering around him on the floor. She smacks his cheek lightly, trying to get him to focus, but he's seeing three of her and doesn't know which one to look at.

"Niall? Niall, I need to get you home.”

It's the last thing he hears before he passes out.

 

*

 

When Niall wakes, it's in a room unfamiliar. The walls are painted a soft beige, accented with cautiously picked flowers placed in intricate vases throughout the room. Niall discerns it to be a hotel room, and he's wondering how he even got here. There's a second bed to the left of him, but it's empty and the sheets have been used. He presses his palm to his face, groaning awake.

Barbara walks out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over her hair to dry, and smiles when she sees he's up. “How are you feeling?” She asks, grabbing for a water bottle from the fridge and hands it to him.

“These cost extra,” he says, staring timidly at the bottle.

Barbara shrugs, sitting at the foot of Niall's bed. “It's my honeymoon, I don't give a shit about extra costs.” Niall nods, opening the bottle and swigs from it. “Hey, are you doing all right? Like… Is there something wrong?”

Niall stares at her over the top of the bottle, pauses, and caps it before placing it between his legs. He sighs. “I don't know how to say it. It's not like I've been helping myself much.”

“You can tell me. I won't judge you.”

Niall grits his teeth. It's one thing admitting it outright to Harry or Liam or even his brother, but to Barbara? The friend that saved his life once and helped him get though most days in California. The friend that could read him like he was an open book, even though Harry couldn't see the first pages of it without asking questions. He grips the comforter between his fists, bowing his head. “I'm fine. Just had a rough few days.” In the end, he can't tell her.

So he forces a smile and leaves it at that.

Barbara doesn't press any further. As she's getting up, she regards him again, “Oh, we brought you here because you were passed out and couldn't tell us where you live. Since you're here, why don't you take a shower and join us for breakfast.”

Niall nods. “Okay, I'd love to.”

 

*

 

He continues his secret ritual. Feels himself fall deeper into the spiral of drowning alcohol and revels in it. He loves the numbness, the way it burns as the chemicals trickle down his throat, and craves it when it's not there. Harry's stopped asking for him, it's comforting. He's not ready to face him either. The perfect human being sleeping in the room next to him gives him anxiety. Thinking about leaving the safety of his room gives him anxiety.

Life gives him anxiety. It's all such a mess.

He knows it's not healthy, but the call of his bottle of whiskey in the corner of his room begs him to drink. So he satisfies it's urging. Engorging himself in the lucid drunkenness he's become accustomed to.

 

*

 

Paradise is only a concept in dreams. It only lasts for so long before it all comes crashing down. He's half surprised, half angry at himself for slipping up, when Harry figures it out. Niall had thought Harry went to school, so he left the apartment, seeking another glorious fifth of whiskey, when he comes home to Harry weeping on the floor, Niall's empty stash sitting with him.

The sound of the front door closing has Harry looking up, eyes red and puffy. He eyes the offending bottle in Niall's hand, wrapped in a brown paper bag, and gets up quickly, reaching frantically for the package. Niall pulls away from him, and next he knows, they're smacked against the door, Harry's tears dripping to the floor with loud _plops!_ and Niall has to bite his tongue.

“This is what you've been doing the whole time? This is why you've been locking yourself up in your room?” Harry says, struggling to find his bearings. He goes from upset to angry, the redness of his face burning hotter. “You're killing yourself!”

“Why'd you snoop?” Niall only asks, tone calm and clear. The bottle in his hand is itching him to drink it, and it's like Harry can hear its pleading call. He grabs the whiskey and throws it across the apartment, the crash of glass against the opposite wall coating light blue paint with the dark brown liquid. “You wasted it.” Niall pouts.

Harry seethes. “Do you even care?!” He yells. “Do you care that I'm scared you'll kill yourself at the bottom of that bottle?!” He starts to weep harder, barely able to get his words out without stuttering. “Y-You have a problem, Niall!”

“I know what my problem is,” he says monotonously. “I just don't think it needs to be fixed.”

Harry hits the door next to Niall's head. “You don't care that I'm in pain because of you?! You're the absolute worst!”

Niall can barely look at him, doesn't want to see the tears, or the way Harry's teeth grind against each other. “I wish you'd just give up on me,” he finally admits and Harry pulls away, eyes wide, mouth gaped.

“What?”

Finally Niall's anger pools out of him. He can barely help the words that vomit out. “You're perfect. You've lived this wonderful life with a family that cares for you. You've never had to experience what it's like to be abandoned.” Niall bites. “How the cosmos paired us up is beyond me because we're far from perfect for each other.”

“Don't.” Harry warns, shaking his head in disbelief.

Niall growls, “Don't _what_? Don't say the truth? Don't admit that you've been deluding yourself into thinking we could actually ever work? You've given yourself a false sense of love, Harry. You can't possibly love someone like me.”

“Don't fucking tell me how I feel!” Harry screams. The apartment's silent now. Niall wishes he could just fade away. When Harry speaks again, it's soft, carefully picked words. “You think after all this time of not giving up on you when I should've, that I've been pretending to love you. That's a load of shite. I love you more than you deserve, and I'm always going to. If you can't handle that, then leave.” His breathing is ragged now, and the lack of a response makes Harry have to walk away.

Niall follows him. He doesn't know why he does, but something's drawing him to Harry's vicinity. He's in the laundry room, moving the wash to the dryer, throwing the clothing in with a loud thunk. Normally Harry will fold his jeans and gently set them inside the dryer, says its to keep them from wrinkling as much, even though Niall can't tell the difference either way. He doesn't remember when Harry started doing Niall's laundry with his, but he can see the difference in their sizes. Harry's jeans are designer, lengthy strips of fabric to match his equally long legs.

Then there's his own jeans, simple, blue to dark grey denim being harshly thrown into the metal barrel of the dryer. Watching Harry angrily move things is entertaining and has Niall glued to the scene. He normally doesn't check Harry out, mostly to contain himself, but he loves the way Harry's built. How his head almost reaches the low ceiling of the laundry room, the beautiful simplicity of Harry's chocolate tresses curving over his broad shoulders. He loves the small jut of Harry's abdomen peeping out of his favourite Rolling Stones shirt, almost as if he's had it since before puberty, and down to his strong legs, and how Niall can see his muscles etched along his skin tight jeans.

Harry's absolutely enticing. "My favourite spider legged jelly bean,” he thinks, then Harry pauses, staring down the washer machine. A small smile betrays him, and he's chuckling.

Finally, Harry looks to Niall. “What flavour jelly bean?”

Didn't he think that? There's no way Harry would've… “Oh no.” The realization is wide across his face. Niall feels his own body falter at the confession he'll never be able to take back.

Harry's full of laughter now, holding his stomach. “You totally just said that out loud.”

Niall can feel his face getting hot. Great. Fucking fantastic. “I did not,” he defends. His voice gets lodged in his throat, it's a struggle to even breathe. He's so mad at himself for slipping up.

Harry shuts the dryer door, turning it on and approaches Niall, testing the waters. His eyes get this dark sense of victory and Niall really feels like he's betrayed himself. “After all of that, after you constantly fight my feelings, turns out you're just as guilty.”

“No I'm not,” he lies.

Harry shakes his head, smirking mischievously. “You are the biggest liar I've ever known,” he chuckles. “And you've finally been caught.”

"Harry…”

“Yes, Niall?” He muses. Harry gets closer, pushing Niall up against the wall. He's nowhere to run and part of him doesn't want to. Niall can't say anything, enthralled by the sudden rush pulsating through his body. His heart pounds in his ears, this feeling entirely different from anything else he's ever experienced with Harry. They aren't strangers to this sort of adjacency, but Niall knows it's unlike their usual standard.

Because he had to go and deceive his contradictory emotions by allowing his brain to think with his dick.

“Perhaps,” Harry starts, arm pressed to the wall above Niall's head, his other cradling Niall's chin in his palm. “You've been harboring feelings for a long time. Perhaps, your own heart is done fighting. Perhaps, you're more perfect for me than you'll allow yourself to believe.”

Niall breathes, hard, and he melts into Harry's touch. Okay, maybe he's right. But to feel these emotions, to feel an inkling of love for something in more than the platonic sense, it's overwhelming. He doesn't know how to control these affections. So maybe that's why he numbs himself with alcohol, to fight off those beautiful butterflies that flutter sporadically in his stomach every time he sees or even thinks about Harry. Because if he allows himself the luxury of loving Harry as much as he loves him, then he doesn't know where to go.

Because no one knows what happens to the couple at the end of the movie. Do they get their happily ever after, or does their world come crashing down on them again, and they don't last? Niall's scared that Harry could be his happy ending, but then what?

“Say it,” Harry dares, face inches from his, tilting towards Niall's timid lips. He isn't used to this side of him, the dark, fearless side that’s begging to be answered. “Admit that you like me, Niall.”

“I…” He trails.

 

 

In the end, Niall dodges the question. He isn't sure how he escaped so easily, but he knows that he's safe in his room, door locked behind him. Harry doesn't approach him for the rest of the day. Niall thanks whatever allowed him the reprieve. He can barely get a hold of his reprehensible heart palpitating against his rib cage. He thinks he might've had a heart attack if he'd stayed a second longer in Harry’s dominating presence.  

When he finds his will to breathe, he calls Liam.

“Yo!”

“Please tell me you're not busy,” Niall replies, exasperated.

“Just chilling at home. Thought about taking a day trip to the beach since it’s a beautiful day in May. Why?”

“Can I come with?”

 

Liam picks him up within the hour. By the time Niall exits his room, Harry's gone, probably to work he guesses. The smashed whiskey bottle has been cleaned up and the apartment’s silent. Niall makes his way down to the lobby, finding Liam's truck parked in front of the complex’s office.

Opening the door, he eyes the curly black mess of Matty’s hair, and he's grinning behind wide sunglasses. “Hey! Good to see you aren't dead!” Matty greets, seated in the middle of Liam's single cab Dodge Ram, helping Niall up into the tall vehicle. Shutting the door behind him, Liam drives off towards the Atlantic coast.

“Still alive and kicking I’m afraid,” Niall grins. He's glad to see him, even if he thought it'd just be him and Liam. It's comfortable, though, a good distraction to keep his mind off of Harry and the looming shadow of his realized emotions.

Matty shoves Niall's upper arm. “Hey, as long as you're staying away from your poison you'll live many years.”

Liam and Niall pass glances. “You told him?”

He shrugs, “The second you quit working at the pub, everyone was asking questions. Kind of hard to keep it a secret when you suddenly go MIA.”

“Fair enough.”

“So what's up,” Liam asks, merging onto the highway. The rush of the cool air from the vents helps calm Niall's nerves, despite the closeness of three fully grown men sitting on a single bench seat.

He sighs. “Needed to get away from Harry.”

“You're still seeing that pretty bird?” Matty whistles. “If I could've taken him home that night, I would've shown him a lovely time.”

“Mate, that's his soulmate. Don't be so crude.” Liam says.

Matty shrugs. “I'm just saying that he's a tall drink of water on a hot summer day, and I'd lap him up greedily.” He hums at the thought. “Bet he's super tight too.”

Niall groans. “Yo…”

“I'm just saying.”

“And I'm just saying to stop,” Liam says. “What's up with Harry?”

Niall rests against the window, watching the road fall quickly behind them. “He found a secret stash of mine. We had a fight, and then…” He can't admit that part. Liam's looking to Niall with wide eyes.

“A stash? Have you been drinking this whole time?”

"Yeah... So Harry flipped.”

Liam grips the steering wheel tighter. “Jesus, Niall. Do you want to end up in the hospital again?”

“Can't we just have a good day without talking about my problems? I might just jump out of the truck and get it over with.”

Liam locks the doors.

“I was joking.” Niall says.

Liam frowns. “Well it wasn't funny.”

Before the inevitable silence can fall on them, Matty speaks up. “All right! Let's play a game!”

“What game?” Niall asks, thankful for the subject change.

"Fortunately, I remembered to wear pants today,” Matty starts. Niall catches on quickly. He knows this game well.

“Unfortunately, you didn't wash them,” he plugs his nose, making a stank face at Matty.

Liam chimes in. “Fortunately, we're going in the water so we won't have to smell them.”

“Unfortunately, Niall has to wash the shit stain out of them,” Matty smirks.

“Eww. Fortunately, the washing machine works, you nasty arse.”

They continue on like that for the next hour drive, filling the small cab of the truck with boisterous laughter. It's a lovelier distraction than Niall could've hoped for.

 

*

 

“I'm going to quit drinking,” Niall tells Liam as they're packing up to leave. The sun’s setting quickly on the horizon, and Niall's sure he got burnt pretty bad. It's worth it to have had time to think about what he needs to do.

“I'm glad to hear that,” Liam replies, loading the ice chest into the bed of his truck. The white paint’s stripping, but with as old as his truck is, Liam can't be arsed to get it repainted. “What led you to decide that? Besides alcoholism possibly leading to your death.”

Niall smirks halfheartedly. “I'm not happy and I realized that alcohol only numbs me.”

“Being numb doesn't let you feel things you should.”

“Sometimes I'd rather not feel certain emotions,” Niall mentions.

“Like what?”

“Like my feelings for Harry.”

Liam smirks this awfully sweet, all knowing smile that Niall wants to smack off. “You love him, don't you?” Niall doesn't answer him, doesn't want to give him the satisfaction. Either way, Liam laughs. “I knew it. Bout damn time you gave in to yourself.”

"It's not that big of a deal, Li.”

His brown eyes go wide. “Not that—excuse you. It is a big deal when you really haven't been truly in love with anyone. Believe me, I know.”

Niall winces at the jab. “I'm—”

“Don't even worry about it. I have Sophia now and she's better than you could ever be.” Liam smirks.

“You've conformed to the soulmate business, I'm disappointed,”

“I've not conformed. I've just fallen in love with a woman who just so happens to be my soulmate. There's a difference,” Liam says. He closes the tailgate, patting Niall on the back. Matty's chatting up a bird for her number, working his magic. Niall shakes his head, unsurprised. “Are you going to tell him?”

That's a very good question.

 

 

**

 

 

Nick sets the hulking load of Harry's manuscript down on the table, patting his palm fondly over the paper. Harry watches the way he carefully handles the large essay, like its precious cargo on its way to Fort Knox. His professor drinks from his coffee, gasping at the hydrating relief, and smiles, eyebrows jutted up in fascination. “After reading over this a third time, I've concluded that you've made a scientific breakthrough.”

Harry's stunned to silence. A breakthrough? No way. “My findings would be inconclusive. There's no for sure way to gather exact data.”

“True,” Nick agrees, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs. “However, you're additional mention of taking DNA strands from soulmates who've already been matched up could help us dissect what it is that links us to someone else. What about your best friend, how you can feel the colours around you because of him? That's a different side of this cosmic event that hasn't been unveiled by science yet. It's worth looking into and perhaps there's a connection between you two that you weren't wholly aware of.”

Harry nervously sips at his coffee. He feels like he's at a job interview. He stares out at the street, watching the population move by quickly, brief touches here and there between individuals. It isn't the first time he's observed the public go about their day to day. He can spot the affected and the waiting—the way those who've experienced colour hold themselves up higher than the ones who haven't. It's a strange stigma, sort of like an alien infection that aids your day to day activities instead of hindering. It comes with a price, just like most infections—the price of death ripping away something amazing and life changing. Nonetheless, humans have always risked their lives just to live as happily as they've wanted to.

So the infection of colour is no different than say, someone that experiences thrills from skydiving. It's exhilarating, eye opening, and the closest anyone will get to facing death without taking its hand. Having unwillingly familiarized himself with the fading, he's seen death’s door two too many times, knows that there's a world of heartache on the other side of that door.

Harry's also seen many people find their soulmate out on the streets. It's supposed to be an uncommon encounter, but fate has a mind of its own, allowing people the chance when they least expect it. Harry's no stranger to that either. Looking to the sunset, he's reminded of Niall at home, possibly in his room still, hiding from him.

He was just so angry and then so amused by the sudden change in Niall's attitude with him, the accidental confession that Harry wanted to pull more out of. He knows he shouldn't have tried to pry further, but the innocent look on Niall's usually stern face had him itching to get more from him, so that maybe they could go forward together. This cat and mouse game has been fun while it lasted, but now it's time to advance as a team instead of Harry carrying their weight.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Nick says after the long silence. Harry turns to him, nodding. “Have you met your soulmate?”

"Is it easy to tell?”

Nick smirks. “I've been researching the affected for years. If I couldn't tell then I wouldn't be good at my job.”

That's a fair assumption. “Yeah. Met him last September. Been a long journey, that.” Harry fidgets with his cup of coffee, the porcelain has gone cold from being forgotten.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“That's quite the understatement,” he gives with a lighthearted chuckle. “Niall hasn't been the easiest person to deal with, but I love him all the same.”

Nick purses his lips in thought, “Let me guess. You two were complete strangers, and he's been fighting you the whole way.”

“Pretty much. I've had almost everything handed to me. This manuscript and Niall are the hardest things I've ever had to work for. I think the cosmos has been testing my patience.”

“And?”

“The results are very fruitful,” Harry concludes.

 

*

 

Niall's just getting home when Harry's unlocking his door. His blonde hair is tousled, messier than this morning and he smells like the ocean air. “You got burnt,” Harry comments, pressing a finger to Niall's shoulder. The white print against redden skin proves him right, and Niall's shying away.

“Liam, Matty and I went to the beach. I forgot to put on sunscreen,” he answers, following Harry into their apartment. He shuts the door behind him quietly, and Harry settles his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter. “But we had fun,”

“That's good.”

“Did you go to work? You were gone when I left.”

Harry looks to him curiously, scanning the timid way Niall's regarding him, can't tell if it's because of earlier or because he's nervous in general. “I did. Then I went out with someone.”

“Out? Like a date?”

Harry has to stifle a laugh. He loves it when Niall thoughtlessly expresses his jealousy. “Nothing of the sort. My professor and I went to coffee and talked about my manuscript.”

Niall's interest is piqued, eyes wide in curiosity. “You finished it? When?”

“A week ago. What do you think I was doing when you were ignoring me?” He jabs, settling into the couch to put his aching feet up. Working at a bakery has its perks—the infinite pastries he can take home because his boss absolutely adores him like he's her grandson—but standing for hours on end is exhausting and his feet hate him for it.

“Oh,” is all Niall says, getting two water bottles from the fridge before sitting next to Harry silently, lifting his legs and placing them in his lap. He passes a bottle to Harry, a gesture of surrender Harry hopes. “Do your feet hurt?”

“Loads,” he answers, gulping the bottle down to the end of its contents. Harry didn't think he was so thirsty.

Niall begins to remove his boots, pulls the zipper slowly down the inside of the ankle high leather, then gently drags the shoe over the curve of Harry's heel, removing his socks afterwards. It's a peculiar sight, seeing Niall doing anything a domestic couple would. The bizarre nature of their relationship is something most wouldn't envy, but Harry enjoys it. When Niall rubs the points of his knuckles up the arch of his foot, Harry let's out an unexpected moan.

“Cosmos, that's amazing,” he coos, head rolling back against the arm of the couch, and Niall smirks.

“You're easy to please.”

Harry pouts, “Don't flatter me, you tease.”

Niall doesn't say anything as he continues to massage Harry's nagging feet. It's heavenly, the sore muscles slowly losing their tension and finally relaxing, and Harry practically whimpers at the loss of Niall's hands against his skin.

“Better?”

“Much. Thank you, love,” Harry says, sighing into the cushion of his couch. They sit in silence for a while, comforted by the closeness of each other. Niall continues to hold Harry's legs in his lap, running the tips of his fingers over the top of his foot. It tickles, but it feels so good, and Harry doesn't want him to stop.

"What are we?" Niall asks.

Harry lifts his head to gaze at him, eyes meeting and it's a soft exchange. It's a question Harry's been asking himself for some time, but too afraid to ask. “What do you want us to be?”

Niall sighs, combing his hands through tangled hair. “I'm not entirely sure, I just know that I want to be with you.”

Finally. Harry has to contain his excitement, because now they're finally getting somewhere. “Say it.” Harry dares for the second time today. He can feel the way Niall stills, his fingers trembling over his foot until they reach an inevitable stop.

His answer isn't the one Harry's hoping for. “I'm quitting drinking.”

Despite the opposite of what Harry thought he'd hear, he's equally pleased. “Is it for me?

Niall shakes his head, grabbing Harry's undivided attention with his determined stare. “I'm doing it for myself. I realized that I'm not happy, and I was way out of line this morning. You had every right to get mad at me.” He looks away now, staring at the wall behind the TV. “I've put everyone through so much because I didn't know how to express myself. My life hasn't been the easiest, but that stems from my father, not anyone else.” Niall smiles a crooked, soft grin, bowing his head before looking to Harry. “You're the only person who's constantly shown me endless love and you deserve to have those affections returned.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow. “Do you mean…?”

Niall nods, setting Harry's legs to the side of the couch to crawl closer to him. “Yeah, Harry,” he starts, inching towards him until they're breathing the same air. “I like you, and I want to be with you.”

He kisses him then, a long, breathless touch of their lips.

Yes. The results are definitely fruitful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos or comments are appreciated.  
> my tumblr is kissperingniall.tumblr.com if you want to follow me
> 
> If you think this is the end, well... it's not. :) I have one more chapter left and the story is finished. I don't want it to end, but it's inevitable.
> 
> As always, thank you to my wonderful Suz for sticking through this bullshit with me, really couldn't have done it without your continued support. xx  
> Thank you to everyone that reads my writing, sometimes I think you just like it because you like me, haha but your support is just as needed and I really can't tell you enough how much I appreciate you. xx


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